Step At A Time
by ZombieJazz
Summary: Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and changing dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. Set within the Hello Goodbye AU series.
1. A Mother's Pain

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

"Something interesting going on in that cup of coffee?" Olivia heard murmured behind her and managed to snap herself out of what must've been an extended contemplation into the blackness of the liquid.

She hadn't even gotten as far as splashing some cream in it. She'd gotten as far as sitting down at the table to deal with a stream of texts from Brian. Then she'd becoming completely lost in her thoughts when he'd suddenly dropped off. She'd been waiting for him to text back – but he hadn't. He'd just stopped. He'd likely gotten caught mixing personal on work time and pulled back into work - just like she did now.

She made herself straighten. But Amanda just examined her as she pulled some leftovers out of the fridge and sat down across from her, popping the lid off it and mixing it up with her fork.

"You OK?" Amanda asked.

"Ah, yeah," Olivia muttered and reached for her own lunch container that hadn't been opened or microwaved – or touched or eaten yet – when she'd sat down with her phone. "Just … peckish …. I didn't get a chance for breakfast this morning …"

Amanda nodded but looked at her more as she chewed. Olivia could tell she wasn't exactly buying that. "Something going on already at Ben's new school?"

Olivia gave her a look. "What …?" she asked confused.

Amanda shrugged and stabbed some more at the cold pasta that she was consuming. Olivia registered that maybe it was later than she thought. Amanda wasn't one to eat anything that resembled a meal until into the afternoon.

"Just came in late Monday. Late today. Sitting in here on your phone for the last half-hour …"

Olivia made a noise at that and picked up her phone at that. She looked at the time. It'd been more than a half-hour.

She hadn't realized it'd been that long. She glanced back into the bullpen but it looked like everything was still humming along without her. Not that the paperwork she had on her desk would be, though. And Amanda was right – she'd lost time on Monday too. Though, she had been working on that accumulation in the evenings at home. Sort of. It wasn't like her focus was much better at home right now either. There were other things that needed her attention. Other things that needed her to be working on and looking up. Conversations that needed to be had. And that was going above and beyond the kids starting back at school.

"Ah, no," she said. "Benji seems to be adjusting to middle school. Emmy's adjusting to Grade One. We're adjusting to the new morning routine …"

"Mmm …," Amanda hummed. "Getting them to different schools catching you in some morning gridlock? I mean even with gridlock …" And she shrugged. The statement was obvious – even with navigating the bridges or tunnel in morning rush hour or dealing with the crowding and delays of the F line - you don't usually run quite as late as she had been two days that week. Not without their being some major and unexpected cause for the delay.

But she really didn't like the tone Amanda had taken. Olivia rubbed at the side of her temple. There was a lot about her interactions with Amanda that had actually rubbed her the wrong way the past many months. That had rubbed Brian the wrong way too. It'd taken a lot for both of them not to say anything. There was a bit too much blurring of the lines of personal and professional. Friends and family – and girl power, Pink Line, breaking the glass ceiling camaraderie – balanced against the reality that Olivia was her boss. And sometimes Amanda really seemed to push that envelope. She knew in some ways she had with Cragen too. They'd talked about it over the summer a bit – how to manage it. But Olivia suspected it'd been easier – less complicated – for Don. At least when it came to Amanda. He'd been sure to point out that she – and Elliot – had certainly created situations where it hadn't always been easy for him either. That she really hadn't made his last year or two on the job easy in the mingling of friend, family, personal, professional, boss, underlying.

But it felt further complicated with Amanda. Olivia knew part of it was because Amanda had opinions about Brian (that Olivia didn't care for) and ideas what their relationship was or looked like (that Olivia really didn't care for). And Brian had opinions about Amanda too that Olivia wasn't overly thrilled about either. It wasn't that she didn't agree with him on certain points – it was that she felt like a bit of a hypocrite having any kind of opinion. And, really, some of it was none of her business. Though, there were times she ended up feeling dragged into it all because of family, friendship, camaraderie and work. And that just made conflicts arise again.

Sure, maybe she had some opinions about Amanda intermingling work and her sex life. She didn't think it was particularly smart. It certainly went outside of rules Olivia had created for herself. But she hadn't always done particularly great at maintaining those rules either. She'd had her early-on slip-up with Brian – and now she was with Brian. So who was she to talk?

But she hadn't slept with her superior, supervising officer – nor was she raising a child fathered by him. And despite her complicated relationship with Elliot – she'd never actually slept with her partner. That was never going to happen – no matter what feelings or opportunities there might've been. Those complications and feelings and the overall exhausting emotional confusion had certainly made how things had ended – and ended up – that much more … messy and complicated. So she didn't exactly think that what Amanda and Nick had waded into had been particularly smart either – or good for either of them. Just like she didn't exactly think what Amanda had going on with Carisi now was very fair.

Nor, at the peril of passing judgment, Olivia had trouble understanding just how careless Amanda and her male partners were being that she'd managed to get pregnant twice in such a short period of time. It happens. But … Olivia didn't know what to think about the what and how and why behind all that. Self-sabotage? Self-worth? A want or need that Amanda hadn't been prepared to admit? Or just outright carelessness and foolishness fueled by … something deeper?

Brian had much stronger opinions about all of it. Ones that made him get very worked up and angry. He'd expressed that he felt like Amanda was using Carisi in a way – and he wasn't wrong. It pissed him off – because he felt that Amanda knew exactly what she was doing, she knew that Carisi had feelings for her, and she was taking advantage of that. That it wasn't fair to Carisi or the little girls – and, again, he wasn't wrong. They'd had a … a slightly more than minor disagreement … when Brian had suggested Amanda was doing the same thing to Carisi as Elliot had done to her – adding that, "And how much of your thirties did you miss out on because of that?" It was another area that she didn't think it was comparable, which Brian had countered, "You're right. It's worse – because she's giving him a taste." And … again … he wasn't exactly wrong. His anger and opinions certainly hadn't been helped with the kind of judgment it felt like Amanda cast their way.

And Olivia really didn't like being made to feel by Amanda like she was being hypocritical about what her relationship with Elliot had been was in anyway comparable to what Amanda navigated with Nick or with Carisi now. Nor did she want to draw comparisons between what Amanda was doing to Carisi to her and Brian's dynamic at any point.

She hated that Amanda had made comments that made her feel like she had given her some kind of poor advice – or pressured her decision – to not marry the doctor, Billy's father. And like that again was hypocritical when she'd agreed to marry Brian. Again, she didn't feel the situation was in any way comparable. Her and Brian's history – their raising the children together for years – it made it different. The fact she did love Brian made it different. But that notion seemed to unbelievable to Amanda, which Olivia supposed said more about Amanda's experience with relationships and examples of love and marriage than anything else.

Olivia got the sense that Amanda wasn't yet in a place she could deal with a relationship – or accept help and love and care from a man. And Olivia could appreciate that. She'd certainly spent a lot of her twenties and most of her thirties in a similar place. She suspected that most of Amanda's relationships so far resolved around solely meeting her 'needs' in the moment – and were very much wrapped on in her own self-worth, self-esteem and insecurities. Relationships to Amanda still equated – short-term and convenient access to (potentially high-risk or at least irresponsible or poorly thought out) sex.

Again, Olivia only felt like she could think or say so much about any of that – especially to someone who wasn't just a friend – it was someone she was responsible for at work. And, she'd been there too. She'd certainly had enough partners when she was younger – until she really just became the job. But she did take issue with some quiet allusion that Amanda had made to suggest that her and Brian were anything close to how she was keeping Carisi on the side. Someone to help with the kids – and to give her a hand when she needed or wanted it.

Olivia completely was willing to acknowledge – privately, between her and Brian or her and her therapist – that her first two moments with Brian were very much wrapped up in sex. Internally, she was prepared to admit that despite their mutually complicated sexuality, Brian was one of the better lays in her lifetime. And that comfort level and enjoyment factor had certainly provided some motivation in starting to chart out the foundation in the latest incarnation of their relationship. It certainly helped with to now still be with him – and to be working through what they had worked through with her and were working through with him. She hadn't felt particularly deprived or antsy in that area of her life in the almost seven years she'd been with the man. If anything, she was in a period of her life – in her middle age and with two kids at home – that she had the most and easiest access to sex than ever before. It wasn't something she worried about too much in looking at their future now – as a married couple and the assumption they'd be growing even older together. There was something comforting that she never would've expected about being with a man now who knew her – and her body – from more than twenty years ago. And a whole lot of the time still told her that's what he saw – that 28, 29, 30 year old woman … .

But Olivia didn't think her and Brian's relationship was remotely built on sex. Despite their difference – they were a good fit. They had things to talk about – to do together – outside the bedroom. They enjoyed each other's company … most of the time. They had, as Brian said, a foundation full of lots of good times, good memories and mutual respect. They cared for each other. They loved each other. And they deeply cared for and loved the family they made together.

So it was still very hard to accept the snide little remarks and looks Amanda tended to sprinkle around when it came to Brian – when it came to her relationship. Olivia knew some of it was … jealousy. It was the insecurities and self-worth issues showing again. It was Amanda's personal wounds. But she found that sometimes Amanda could just be … purposely hurtful. Perhaps to the ones she cared about most. Perhaps it was a test to see how hard – and how far – she could push you, after what she'd gone through with her own mother and father and sister. To see if you'd stand by her.

It could be hard at times, though. Since the wedding it felt more like there'd been more back-handed comments not just about her relationship – but about her as a parent.

It'd reached the point that Olivia had almost all-together stopped talking about the kids or the family's weekend activities at work. Because apparently her and Brian taking the kids to parks and playgrounds and beaches and museums and movies in the summer was in some way flaunting some kind of wealth Amanda felt they had. And gong on vacation to Florida? Taking the kids to a theme park? Well, not only had Amanda made clear that it was tacky – but she'd also indicated that pretty much any mention of anything they were doing with the kids amounted to passing some kind of judgment on what kind of parent Amanda was.

Olivia never was sure what to say to that. She certainly felt that both her and Brian had more than worked and paid their dues to be in the financial position they were in. For God's sake – they both had more than a decade seniority on her. Olivia didn't exactly feel like they were living in any kind of extravagant lifestyle. And for whatever spoiling – or extravagance or niceties – they did have in their lives or their kids lives, her and Brian had both spent their twenties and thirties and almost half their forties … the majority of their adult lives … being the job. Neither of them went home or took furlough or had much of a life.

They were living now. And they were both trying to find ways to be the kind of parents that maybe they wish they'd ad. Or giving their children a childhood they longed for. Or in the very least give them the opportunities – and support – they hadn't had. That wasn't about judging anyone. It was very much about her. And Brian. And Benji and Emily. Even if she did feel that Amanda could potentially make slightly different choices to better utilize the kinds of opportunities afforded to her and her children while raising them in New York City.

Despite the challenges and the hardships that did bring – there were definitely positives it did create. But Olivia wasn't sure Amanda accessed many of them. She made a lot of excuses for missing out and passing up on many of them. Expense, the job, and single motherhood being the key reasons – seemingly. So, Olivia didn't argue the point – because she only had limited experience with single motherhood. And even in the months she had been a single mother – she'd been older than what Amanda was now and she'd also had a lot of help and support from the get.

Olivia had tried to be supportive – understanding, offering to help when and how she could – until recently. There'd been several tipping points. One had been the wedding.

Her and Brian had kept their marriage incredibly casual and private. Brian's mother and Cragen had been their witnesses at the courthouse. And they'd had Janet, Cragen and Eileen, Jack and John to their house for just dinner in the garden. But word had gotten out about it. It hadn't exactly been a state secret. It just also wasn't anything they wanted to turn into an event.

Fin had mostly taken it in stride. Carisi was Carisi about it. But Amanda had taken it as some kind of slight.

Olivia had tried to make up for any hurt feelings by just hosting a bit of a picnic one of the following weekends. It wasn't anything much. It was just the kids playing in the playground and kicking a soccer ball around the field and climbing on rocks. Everyone had just been invited to join them – and they'd order some pizza for lunch in the grass. They had some treats and snacks they'd dragged along with them.

But Amanda had told her, "Benji and Emily play rough." It'd been a bit of a slap in the face. It'd evolved from Amanda's commentary on Brian to including her kids in the mix. Amanda was actually lucky she'd made the comment to Olivia – and not to Brian. He likely would've lost it. As it was the comment had left Olivia so flabbergasted she hadn't clapped back anything – beyond saying she hadn't realized something had happened that would make Amanda feel that way and wondering what it was so she could address it with the kids. But all Amanda had provided on full-up was, "I just don't want Jesse exposed to that kind of play with her starting pre-school."

Olivia hadn't known what to say. That didn't happen often. But the comment had taken her so off guard. And Amanda and the girls not showing up had definitely hurt after it. It still did – as there had been other invitations through out the summer for them to come over for a meal and for the girls to have a chance to play with the hose and sprinkler and dig in and flood flower and sand boxes and splash water table and little inflatable pool they had for the kids. Olivia knew that there were lots of splash pads and public pools in the city that Amanda could easily access – even Benji and Emmy still jumped at getting to go play at a playground with water features or spending an weekend afternoon on the beach or at the pool. But there was something nice about having the space in the back garden for them to goof around and cool down every evening. It'd really just been a mea culpa – a let's move on – and a social call.

It'd been skewed as another commentary, though. How 'far away' Brooklyn was. Her feelings about Carroll Gardens and apparently what kind of (class of) people lived there. And again the suggestion that their house and garden was a little much.

And it'd again rubbed Olivia the wrong way too. She had said something that time. She'd pointed out that Jack was a trained architect and specialized in urban park space and landscaping. That Brian had bought blueprints and materials and built an entire cabin by himself, for God's sake. That neither Jack or Brian were afraid of hard labor. That she was pretty self-sufficient with a hammer and saw herself. She had told Jack what she wanted – in the backyard, in the kitchen, in the kids' now shared bedroom and the little playroom upstairs. They'd slowly made all that happen – together, as a family, using their own two-hands and skill sets – over the period of years since they'd moved in. It wasn't like they'd had an architect or interior designer come in or dropped a tone of money on contractors and renovations. It'd been family projects in making the home their own. And Olivia – and Brian, and Jack, and the kids – were proud of that space. It was the home – the space – they wanted. It was a place they all liked coming back to. It was nice to have something to come home to. Olivia loved that feeling.

But the comments were hard to move beyond when Olivia was already working at getting over Amanda's suggestion it wasn't on her to take care of Brian. And that coming in the fall out of the revelation of what Brian had gone through as a child. What he was still coping with as a man – and father and husband – today.

There were lots of things that Olivia knew she certainly wasn't responsible for. Brian was a grown man – and his own person who made his own (sometimes very bad) choices. But he was her best friend, her partner, the father of her children and now her husband (not pity marriage). Taking care of him – being there for him – certainly was part of her role in their union and relationship and family life. It was a responsibility she'd signed up for – willingly.

And not to be a martyr or bleeding heart – because he was all those other roles to her. Because she loved him. Because there'd been lots of ways he'd taken care of her and their children when it really hadn't been on him either.

Their dynamic got even more complicated when Amanda had interpreted the comment about regret she'd made as indicating she'd had an abortion. Now what Olivia regretted was how that all played out. She wished she'd worded things differently. She hated that again she had been made to feel like she'd swayed one of Amanda's decisions while also indicating some sort of passing of judgment about what route Amanda might take. Maybe she regretted she'd said anything at all. Maybe part of her regretted she hadn't sat Amanda down and explained what she'd meant more.

That she'd said that regret comes in different forms. That even with the family she had now, Olivia had regrets that she hadn't had the chance to experience carrying and bearing her own children. That she'd waited too long for that.

And she had reminders of that in her life.

That she had an adult son that she got to see and be reminded that if she'd made some different decisions she might have a biological child around Jack's age. That Jack's father could've been the father of her children. That she might've had a son very much like Jack.

That she looked at Brian every day and there was a part of her that kept going back to the reality that – again, if she'd wanted it – she could've had him as a husband and the father of her children twenty years ago. That, again, they likely would've been around the end of raising children rather than still in the early stages. Not that she thought that would've realistically worked out. As much as Brian had wanted kids and marriage – and a relationship with her – then, he wasn't ready for it. And neither was Olivia. She knew that. She hadn't wanted marriage or motherhood then. And she definitely hadn't been at a point in her life where she had any interest in taking care of Brian – or any man.

It'd taken her too long to be ready for any of that. And she'd had to do it in different ways. Though, she'd gotten that glimpse of what maybe her life – her family – might've looked like with a biological child of her own. Of their own. She'd had the opportunity to really feel it – and think it about. To see all kinds of possibilities – and changes and newness and differences and experiences – in that reality. And then that had been taken from her.

There'd been a loss. There'd been regret. There'd been guilt – and regret – about how she'd felt in her twenties with a pregnancy scare and a miscarriage then. The relief she'd felt back then. The expectation that she'd have lots of other chances – when she was ready and when it made more sense and was the way she wanted it to be with who she wanted it to be with. But that hadn't happened. Ever.

Until it had. In her mid-forties when she had thought that door had pretty much closed. And with a man she'd known for most of her adult life – who she was still conflicted with whether she wanted to have his children. But how much she wanted a child – of her own. And there was guilt – and regret – wrapped up in that too. Because she had Benji – her beautiful little boy and she wondered if that was enough. She felt like it should be enough. She felt like she should know if she wanted to bear – and raise – Brian's children by then. She felt conflicted for wanting the child but not knowing if she was ready – wanted – to be so irrecovally to him for the rest of her life. Still. She felt regret – and anger at herself – for how she reacted to his reaction. For as much as Brian had always proclaimed he wanted children – for as much as he made his adoration of Benji clear – he hadn't been happy. He'd been scared and upset about how it 'happened' and worried about the baby and about where they were in their relationship (and, now she knew there was likely more to it then that too). It'd placed a wedge between them that only seemed to grow wider when he expressed some relief when she'd miscarried early on in the pregnancy.

The pregnancy that had been so sort that in some ways it hadn't felt real. Yet also created so much hurt. And, yet, that hurt and want and regret – made her feel more regret too. In a different way. Because she knew if things had gone differently – if any of those moments in her life had gone even slightly differently – she'd be living a very different life. She might not have Benij and Emmy. Benji and Emmy wouldn't be her little boy and little girl. Jack wouldn't be Jack – or might not be. And might not be in her life. She might not have Brian now. She might not be where she was with her career. And she might not be as happy as she was now. As lucky as she usually felt. Like all … the challenges and the bullshit and the pain and the sadness … it'd led to something. There'd been some meaning.

And Brian said – her, them – knowing that was enough. That the real problem with Amanda was that she seemed to think that Olivia owed her something. Or that Olivia felt like she owed Amanda something for some reason. But she didn't. They didn't. It was none of her business.

And he was right.

And he wasn't. Because if anything – the addition of the kids … her Lewis fall-out, his Coach Gary fall-out … had just proven you can't do it alone. Even when people treat you normally – even when you try to act normally – it can still be eating you a part. All of it.

And as much as Olivia fully intended to keep reaching for Brian's hand – and to keep reaching out hers for him to grab a hold of – there were things in their life now that were going to be harder and harder to manage with on their own. And harder to disguise on the work-front.

So she sighed. "We've had a couple medical appointments we've needed to get to."

Amanda's eyes set on her again. "We? Is everything all right?"

And Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow and stared off beyond Amanda – at the vending machines. Right now that fucking pack of Oreos looked a lot more appetizing than this fucking quinoa and roasted vegetables and chicken with fucking coconut amino that they'd been feeding their children for the past eight months as some kind of hopeful cure-all-food-is-the-best-medicine plan.

"Not really," she said flatly.

And Amanda's eyes stayed there – measuring her. "Cassidy?" she asked. "That artery that got—?"

Olivia shook her head. "Benji," she said flatly.

"What?" Amanda said with some genuine confusion – bordering on the shocked horror that Olivia knew you really only started to truly know and understand after you have a child.

And Olivia shrugged and took a sip from her long cold coffee. "He has lupus," she said matter-of-factly.

And Amanda gaped. "What?"

But Olivia only allowed a small nod – because she knew that everyone had been talking … for months. But her and Brian decided to keep it private – the details despite the suspicions and the backward attempts from multiple party to pick up details about what might be going on. But there were going to be aspects of it they couldn't keep as private right now. Keeping it private was just … exhausting. More than it already was exhausting.

"He has lupus," she confirmed again. "That's why I've been taking time most of this year. He was having to go in for treatment. Once a month. And, on Monday we had him in for some testing … to see how all that worked. And, today Brian and I had a meeting with his doctor to talk about how it didn't work … as well as we'd like."

Amanda stared at her. For a long beat. For once maybe she was the one who didn't know what to say. Or was just keeping her mouth shut – when she'd just been handed any opportunity to talk.

"What does that mean?" she finally asked.

Olivia shrugged a bit. "We're going over our options," she said and sighed, putting down her cup. "We have some options. That's good news."

And Amanda stayed quiet again – flabbergasted again. And then finally managed to get out, "Are you OK?"

Olivia gave her a weak half-smile and shook her head. "No."

And it hung there. It was clear that Amanda didn't know what to say. But it wasn't a situation where Olivia needed – or really wanted – her to say anything.

There really wasn't much to say about it yet. And the test results weren't entirely unexpected. It wasn't a disaster. It was just … lupus. They would … try this next step … next treatment … to try to have their little boy in a stronger position going forward. They'd been told that recommendation was likely coming. But it hadn't made hearing the words come out of the doctor's mouth any easier. It didn't make facing this next unknown any less … frightening.

"How's Brian taking it?" Amanda tried after a long silence.

Olivia exhaled and rubbed at her eyebrow. "Ahh," she allowed and glanced at her phone again. He was still caught up with whatever it was that had caught him – distracted him. But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing for either of them. "About as well that can be expected."

Not well – while trying to be the family rock and supporter and caretaker – before taking care of himself.

So Olivia shook her head and looked at Amanda. "Brian and I worked a case back … we'd likely both been with SVU about a year. It was a little boy. No one can handle the cases with children. He talked even back then about how much he wanted to be a dad. How much he wanted a son. It was the first time I'd heard him talk about that – and that way. And … I don't know, Bri was maybe twenty-eight."

She exhaled again and shook her head some more. "I know you have your opinions about Brian—"

"Liv …," Amanda sighed apologetically.

And again she shook her head. "I had lots – lots – of opinions about him and who I thought he was seven, eight years ago too. I didn't make it easy on him – at all. But as many times there's been points in our relationship where I've questioned the relationship – us – I haven't had to question him as a father. Or his commitment to the love and well-being of Benji and Emily. Even though I know very well that our relationship – and being a father – doesn't look remotely like what that twenty-eight year old had hoped for or imagined."

"Yea, but, does it for anyone?" Amanda provided.

"I guess not," Olivia allowed and took another slow sip. "We're just … working at having to readjust our expectations and … dreams and hopes … our lifestyle … again."

"Is Benji … doing OK with it all?" Amanda ventured.

Another exhale. "He's been a trooper," Olivia said. "He's still so little and he's been through so much. And he's … just so strong …" She had to stop herself – because she felt her voice crack a bit and knew her eyes were betraying her emotions too. She took a beat – as she felt Amanda's heartbroken eyes set on hers too, which did nothing to calm the tears that were sitting there. So she tried another weak smile. "We have seen improvement in him. The medication, the IV treatment we did this year."

"The sore throats you'd mentioned …?" Amanda ventured.

She allowed a little nod. "That," she allowed. "He was getting a lot of rashes. Joint pain. Fatigue. We've seen improvement with all of that."

Amanda stared her. "So then … what's not getting better?"

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow. "It's affecting the tissues around his lungs," she allowed. And Amanda's face changed again. "They look at these inflammation markers and his blood cells. Some of them just haven't improved to where the doctors would like him to be – to have him in the best place possible on his mission to become a middle school math and science genius."

Amanda gave her a weak smile. "That really is going OK? His new school? Starting middle school with all this going on?"

Olivia nodded. "It seems to be. We're only a couple weeks in. We aren't looking at application requirements for MIT yet – but it seems like it's going to be a good fit."

"That's good …" Amanda allowed. "For you, for him …"

"It is," Olivia smiled. "And beyond that distraction, we've got him putting his nervous energy into planning his birthday."

"I noticed there hadn't been an invitation yet," Amanda said.

"Ah, there won't be," Olivia said.

"A little old to have girls at his party? Beyond his sister?" Amanda suggested – but there was a quiet regret and some questioning there. Some kind of acknowledgement that all the scuffling and verbal sparring – and declined invitations over the summer – might've caught up to her and her daughters.

Olivia only shrugged, though, because she didn't really want to go into that. "Sort of. We've been informed as a middle schooler, he's definitely a big kid now and he wants a big kid birthday."

"Ahh," Amanda smiled a little. "Sleepover with his hockey buddies for a Fortnite marathon?"

Olivia rubbed her eyebrow at that. It was a nice thought – but it wasn't realistic. Benji didn't relate to other kids that way. He didn't have friends. Her and Brian both had issues with sleepovers. They had rules about videogames – Fortnite wasn't on their approved list yet.

"Benji's actually not playing hockey this season," she said. Amanda looked at her with some sad shock. "He'll still play some – just not … as organized as we've done. There's the shinny rec league with for PD and FD. So him and Brian have gone out to a couple father-son scrimmages. He seems to be liking it. He really … just loves to skate. So …" And she sighed. "We had to decide on basketball or hockey … with where he's at right now. And … he's really worked on his ball this summer. It's easier for us with the school intramural and after-school programming. And … Daddy knows everything about basketball … so …?" she shrugged. "I can actually play basketball too, so I wasn't entirely disappointed. Disappointed for him, but …"

"So just a sleepover then? Pizza party?" Amanda tried.

"Ahh, no," Olivia shook her head. "Apparently a big kid birthday is having his grandparents over for cake. It's what we've done for Jack for … the past seven years. So … big kid birthday …"

"At least it keeps it easy for you," Amanda said.

She shrugged. "More or less. There's other 'big kid' requests for this birthday."

Amanda offered a little smile. "Like …?"

"Umm …," Olivia shrugged. "We let the kids pick an activity they want to do on the Saturday of their birthday weekend. So he wants to go to Governors Island."

"Didn't you take them over this summer?" Amanda squinted at her.

"Yes," Olivia allowed. "More than once. But they love it there. And they've got the zipline and climbing wall and maze, mini putt, that so far the answer has been 'no' when there's so much … free to more than fill a day there. But I think he's hoping that on his birthday weekend he'll hear a 'yes'."

"And will he?" Amanda tried.

Olivia shrugged and shook her head. "That likely depends on if he's working at Mommy or Daddy's heart-strings on the weekend."

"More likely to get the 'yes' from Brian?" Amanda smiled.

"Right now, yes," she said.

And she didn't provide more – even though the more was that Coach Gary started touching Brian when he was eleven and this birthday … fatherhood, this news they were getting about Benji … it was triggering things in her husband in a complicated and difficult way. And she was trying to help Brian navigate that – while letting him figure out how to deal with it as a man and as a father in his own way. But while also not allowing him to project onto their little boy too much. Benji wasn't Brian. And Benji had a Daddy protecting him and a Mommy right there and engaged with him too. They knew what to look for, what to watch for. They kept telling themselves that. As hard as sometimes that was to convince themselves – when they hadn't seen or realized just how sick their son was. Not soon enough.

"And, he's ordered hard shell tacos – Mommy's seasoning, which comes out of the Old El Paso box, not take-out - and Doritos with funfetti M&M monster cake for his birthday dinner. So let me tell you – you will be missing out and I'm sure his grandparents will be thrilled to be invited over for this delicacy."

Amanda smiled. "I'm sure they will," she said.

And Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow. "And he has a very specific 'it has to be for ages 10 and up' Lego set is on his wishing so hard he's dreaming list."

"This does sound like a very grown-up birthday …," Amanda attempted a supportive smile.

Olivia nodded a little bit but pulled her bottom lip between her teeth because she felt the tears threatening again. "Yep …," she struggled to get out, "my big boy …"

Her big boy. She needed to a big girl – the grown-up, his mother – about this too. And it was … so hard.

And Amanda's hand came across the table and rested on top of hers. And Olivia let it. And then she gripped it. And they looked at each other – the way only mother's knowing a child's pain ever could.


	2. Step Forward, Step Backward

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

Cassidy heard the front door open. He stopped working on his dicing and chopping in the kitchen and listened for a beat. But could tell near immediately it wasn't Liv's footsteps. Generally, she usually announced her arrival home too. Would've been some kind of new record on the F Train if it had been hear. Last he'd heard from her it just sounded like she was maybe starting to move out of her office. That always seemed to be about a half-hour affair with her.

So he wasn't surprised when it was Jack who appeared.

"Smells amazing," the Kid said and held out some wrapped up butcher paper. "Gio says 'hey'. And I say it's fucking weird – bordering on fucking sad - the guy in the meat counter knows you – and everyone in this family – by name."

Brian took the paper, muttering a 'thanks' and immediately moving to unwrap it. "It's not fucking weird. It's old Brooklyn."

"Right," Jack muttered right back and leaned against the counter (closest to the chopped up veg. Of course. Fucking Kid.). "You know you can spare me the whole back in the good old days, real Brooklyn talk. Again. When the Irish versus the Italians versus the Blacks versus the Hookies versus Creekies versus the Gardeners versus the whatever-the-fuck."

"Yea, well, fucking Gio knowing who we are and what we want from behind the counter – the old Brooklyn, the real Brooklyn – that's why we moved here."

"That's not exactly my recollection on how all that went down," Jack said, reaching for some the chopped bell pepper and popping it into his mouth.

Brian shot him a look. "Don't eat the merchandise," he ordered.

Jack just rolled his eyes at him. That was pretty standard.

"What's fucking sad," Brian shook his head at him, and started in on slicing the sausage he'd had the Kid pick up, "is that this neighborhood's got all you Millennials moving in and shutting out the Old Guard to open another fucking vegan coffee bistro whatever-the-fuck."

"Yea, that's real sad. Because, you know, sounds like South Brooklyn was a real high quality place when you were coming up. Too bad things have changed ..."

Jack reached for some more peppers and Brian shot him another – firmer – look. "Jack, c'mon. I'm trying to get this done. Don't eat the fucking Trinity on me."

Brian worked at scooping up the bell peppers, onions and celery now that the sausage had arrived. And because it was quickly becoming clear that if he didn't get them in the pan sautéing – they'd be eat down rather than cooked down. The Fucker.

"Yea, OK, June," Jack mouthed at him – giving him a smirk like he'd really gotten him on that one. "Where's Ward anyway?"

Brian just gave his head another miniscule shake at the Jack-Ass routine. At least this was just Jack's idea of bonding banter and not him being an actual prick. He pressed the veggies around the pan and oil to get them going a bit.

"They caught some break in a case. She was having to supervise an interrogation."

"Sucks," Jack said. "What about you? You having to go back in or something?" Brian cast him a questioning look and Jack gestured at him. "Couldn't tell you the last time I saw you in that kind of get-up."

Brian made a sound at that and gave Jack a look. "And see you in that get-up every time you're here," he said. Wasn't entirely true. But the Kid definitely wasn't in work attire. "Mustta looked at the calendar wrong. Didn't realize it's Casual Friday already."

"Casual Every-Day, man," Jack smirked. "Don't hate."

Brian wasn't exactly jealous. But would give that something positive about U.C. and Narcotics was the absolute lack of necessity of suits and ties. Still felt like some kind of fraud – if not a complete ass-hat every time he put one on. So every fucking day. Nearly. He toned it down a bit after he did get into the office – striped off the jacket, loosened the tie, rolled up the shirt sleeves. But still had to have the get-up around in case he had to go sit in on a meeting (which was more days than he'd like) with some fucking ADA or DA or ass-hat above him. Or ended up over at the court house.

But he also made a point to get out of that fraudulent illusion pretty much as soon as he got in the door. Fuck – there were a lot of days where he just left the undesirable parts of his get-up at the office for repeat use. Or outright changed before heading to pick up the kids at their shit. He hadn't gotten that far that evening. Still in his pants and shirt – though tie was gone sleeves rolled up as he worked on getting dinner together.

"Stuck in court all day waiting to get called up. Basically just walked in the door."

Jack shrugged. "So what's with the time-bomb act? When Mom's tied up too. You're acting like you're running all behind."

Brian just made a sound. "Liv's on her way home. Or she's supposed to be. And – we are running late."

Jack gave him a look. "For what?"

Brian cocked his head at him somewhat annoyed. "Meet the Creature," he said. "We told you that. On Sunday." It was fucking Tuesday.

"Oh," Jack said and seemed to think about it – for a beat long enough that it made Brian want to smack him. "Thought that was Thursday."

Brian gave him another look. "Ben's is tonight. Em's is Thursday."

"Oh," Jack said, again, acting like he was really considering that hard. "Do they go to that with you? Or you need someone to watch them?"

And Brian really gave him an annoyed look that time. "No," he said. "We don't take them with us. And, no, we don't need to you to watch them. Because, on Sunday, Jack, when we pretty clearly asked if you could help us out this week we got a whole lot of 'umm' and 'ahh'ing going on."

Jack just looked at him. "You know what would make it way easier for me not to 'umm' and 'ahh'," he said. "You guys letting me rent the garden unit."

Brian stared hard. "You know what would get us to let you rent downstairs," he stated. Because it was a statement. It was a firm agreement of terms they'd already had.

The deal was $2,100 a month – a fucking steal in the market – based on the understanding that: 1) Help with the kids was expected and would be provided at least twice a month and not moaned and groaned about if last minute shit came up that they needed a hand with; and 2) Groceries out of their kitchen was not included in the rent. Jack was still acting like that was highway robbery and completely unreasonable. As far as Brian was concerned it was the Kid who was being unreasonable. And Brian also didn't reasonably believe that Jack had any real interest in living in Carroll Gardens – or in his mom's basement. Or being in that close daily proximity to the kids – and the reality that they'd be wanting to spend time with him daily not just when he felt like it.

And maybe proving all those points, Jack didn't press the issue. "So who's watching them?" he mumbled instead.

"Cragen and Eileen tonight. My mom Thursday. Dropping them off at Cragen's on Friday."

Jack gave him another look. "What's Friday?"

Brian gave him a 'seriously?' look. "Ben's birthday—"

"That's Saturday," Jack interjected more than a little defensively.

Brian cocked his head. "Me and your Ma have been slammed. We need to go pick him up a gift and try to find and make a gluten-free cake mix that isn't a disaster – before Saturday."

Jack shrugged. "Just get Alex to do it. Like usual."

And he looked at the ass-hat again. "That'd be real fair of us when, you know, they aren't invited to his birthday."

And it got another shrug. "She wouldn't care."

Brian rolled his eyes. Because – yea – Alex had a whole lot of time these days with work and a preschooler and a house and life and marriage to manage. Just oozing spare moments to make them a cake she wouldn't even get to eat.

"Could just buy it," Jack said flatly. "It's New York. Not like it's hard to find gluten-free, vegan, paleo anything. There's a place near Renee's. She's like addicted to their cookies. Oh … wait. Milk Bar. It's like right here. Smith and … Second."

"You know, we never would've thought of that," Brian put to him. "Yet shocker - we'd prefer to spend like the sixty-bucks on something that isn't edible. Maybe even more especially when we're supposed to be limiting his sugar intake, Jack."

Jack held up his hands – palms out in some kind of suggestion. "It was just a suggestion."

Jack leaned back against the counter and Brian went back to getting the sausage tossed into the pan to get this jambalaya to come together (or at least be left simmering for the kids and Cragen) – before he had to be headed out the door again. Their plan had been to get there early so they didn't get stuck – or pressured – into signing up for some bullshit parent volunteer role. Stuck on the shittiest fundraiser or field trip or having to participate in like the composting committee or some shit. To look like they actually wanted – or had the time – to be involved in the school community life. Liv didn't come in the door soon, though, he'd definitely be on like Dog Poop Scoop Patrol or some bullshit.

"Where they at anyway?" Jack asked.

Brian stirred. "Ben's burning off some energy out back. Em's upstairs. Trying to pretend it's not entirely suspicious how quiet she's being up there."

Jack allowed an quiet amused noise. "Seriously, though. I'm here. I might as well watch them."

Brian glanced at his – Liv's … Liv's grandfather's – watch. "Cragen and Eileen likely already left their place."

Jack gave a little nod. "Then Thursday or Friday. Or whatever."

"Already sorted," Brian said flatly.

He wasn't going to wade back into his annoyance from the weekend with the Kid. Jack the only thing consistent about him seemed to be his inconsistence. One month it'd be like he didn't have any use for them. Next month he'd be on their doorstep four days a week. But it definitely meant he hadn't been much of a dependable go-to when it came to having some extra help with childcare. He definitely wasn't the first person they called at this point. His mom was always their first stop and then they went from there.

Least Jack knew not to press opening that door too far. He rocked against the counter.

"That's your jambalaya, right?"

Brian just grunted.

"The Captain will be pretty stoked. Mom not so much."

"Liv's pretty stoked about any meal that she's not the one cooking," Brian muttered. And gave Jack another examination. "You in the dog house?"

Jack gave him a look. "What?"

Brian shrugged. "Sure made it seem like you had a full week ahead of you back on the weekend. Now, look at you. Tuesday, Thursday, Friday suddenly wide open. Where's Renee?"

Jack's eyes stayed on him. There was a flicker there that Brian read. But the Kid just shrugged. "I don't know. You know how she gets with some of her clients. Some sad case or something."

Brian allowed a sound at that. It was believable. He'd been there. He was still there with Liv when some cases came into her squad room. But he also wasn't buying it.

But he didn't have a chance to press it even if he wanted to – which he didn't really think he did. He mostly tried to stay out of Jack's relationships. So far they were kind of fucking train wrecks – all two of them they'd gotten to witness. But Brian wasn't sure he had much confidence that that was going to change any time soon. Just was that they were likely going to have to deal with the fallout of the latest derailment when this thing he had with Renee went sideways. It'd kind of seemed like from the get that it was likely destined to be a fucking environmental disaster – even taking the Jack aspect of it all out of the equation.

He could hear Ben clomping up the steps to the deck out back and then the door opened. His feet scuffed like crazy at the mat by the door – but the shoes didn't come off before he charged right into the kitchen holding up a sad little jalapeño.

"Dad, look," he said. "There was still one left."

A green-thumb Liv was not. But she'd sure tried that summer with the couple garden boxes out back. Thought she did it more for the kids. Or just to spend time with the kids. They'd definitely had some fun planting the stuff and watching it grow. Not that it had really grown that well. Not with the heat that summer and not with Em treating the vegetable garden like some sort of sandbox turned insect observatory. Or Ben's idea of how much water the fucking plants needed given the heat. More like a swampy mud puddle half the time. A ecology experiment gone wrong. Though, they'd managed to yield some stuff that almost counted as edible vegetables. Beyond the lettuce, though, most of it was small and unripe. But whatever. The kids had still eaten it up like the were the fucking best farmers in the world and it was the best salad, green beans, carrots and radishes they'd ever tasted. And they might've had a point – organic as fuck.

"Nice," was all he said to Ben. No comment on the fact the kid likely should've let grow a bit longer before picking it. He'd chop it up and let the brave ones top their jambalaya with it. Likely would add a bigger kick when the thing was still this small.

Didn't need to say more, though. Ben full-on noticed Jack and any interest level in gardening almost disappeared.

"Hey, Jamin," Jack said and gave his shoulder a little tap. "Wassup?"

"Peedg," Ben sputtered with a bit of glee. "Guess what?"

"What?" Jack said, giving his nephew a bit of a two-shouldered rock.

"It was our first Exploration Day!"

Jack shook his head and gave Brian a look.

He shrugged – because he was still wrapping his head around some of this integrated classrooms, differential instruction, exploratory learning shit too. Definitely was not the middle school curriculum he'd grown up with. Figured it was another reason for them to get to the fucking Meet the Creature, parent orientation thing too. Get a firmer grip on what exactly Ben's year was going to look like now that they were locked-and-loaded in the midst of it.

But so far it only mattered so much.

What mattered right now was that his kid was about a hundred times happier than he'd been in his last two years of public school. Sure, they were still only in September – but they were off to a good start. Some signs of possible friends on the horizons. Teachers and administration that seemed to at least be trying to get it and accommodate Ben a bit better than they'd experienced at the primary level. No bullying incidents yet. He was liking the after-school programming. He was engaging real well with some of the topics and content of the units so far. The amount of homework wasn't entirely overwhelming them every night. There was sports stuff and science stuff and arts stuff that put what was taught at the grade school level to same – and that was hitting a whole lot of Big Man's happy places. So it was all just making dealing with a whole lot of daily life shit – and all the fucking hard realities and decisions they were having to wade through – easier.

"OK …? Awesome …?" Jack tried.

"YEA!" Ben provided. "And this year we're gonna talk about sustainability stuff. And our first unit is about food stuff. And we're gonna visit an orchard! And a farm! So I told them I was born on a farm. And that you know all about cows and milk."

"Great …?" Jack said and cast Brian another look of 'what the hell am I supposed to do with this'?

"YEA!" Ben said again. "And another unit is gonna be about city planning! So I told the teachers that's what you do! And you're an architect! And build parks and playgrounds and stuff. And she said it sounds like you should be an expo guest for one of our Exploration Days!"

"Oh …," Jack said and looked at Brian with some mild panic. "Yea, maybe," he tried – it was clearly a 'no'. He shook a Ben's shoulders again – a real shake, almost like he was trying to shake the idea right out of his head.

Ben squinted at him. "What happened to your arm?"

Brian looked back from working at pouring the chicken stock and rice into the mix. The short sleeve of Jack's shirt had ridden up his bicep with the maneuver. It clearly showed off a gauze bandage before Jack let go of Big Man and pulled the material back down into place.

"Just line of duty stuff," Jack muttered, attempting some side-eye Brian's way to try to catch if he'd seen anything. But Brian had already more than clocked it.

"Eat concrete?" Ben asked. "You tryin' to land a new trick, Peedg?"

"Umm, yeah, sure," Jack managed to get out. "You know, always working at expanding the trick-tionary. But, hey, talking about parks and tricks and stuff … you wanna grab your deck or bike and head over to Domino after super to stunt around the pump track a few times?"

Ben burst into wide-eyed excitement at that and looked to Brian. "Dad!? Can I?"

Brian really cocked his head at Jack at that – making his full annoyance with him more than clear. Though, he could tell it was Big Man that it resonated with more and the kid let out a little sigh of defeat – even though it wasn't directed at him in the first place. And that just made Brian look at Jack harder. Ben had enough disappointment in his life these days. Didn't need to add to it by stupidly running his mouth.

"Hey, kiddo," he offered a bit more gently to Ben – making real sure to give Jack another firm look as he did shift his eyes to his boy. "The Captain and Nana Eileen are going to be rolling in soon. Think they're really looking forward to spending some quality time with you tonight. And also think it's a school night and you've got some homework you need to do."

"But I'll see the Cap and Nana on Friday," Ben offered in a tempered whine. "And I don't have hardly any homework. Just a math sheet. It was super peesy. I did it at LEAP already before basketball."

"That so?" Brian raised his eyebrows at him – testing him on that statement.

Ben huffed a bit. "And we just hafta pick out a civilization for social studies. And say an interesting thing 'bout them and why they might be interesting to learn more about. And I already know what I'm gonna pick."

"Yea?" Brian put to him again. "What have you got picked?"

"Vikings!" Benji said firmly. "Like Magnus. And I can say all kinds of things 'cuz we've already basically read Magnus, Dad. And it's basically Thor. And we've seen all those movies."

Jack made an amused noise at that. Brian cast him a look – but he'd give the Kid there was an amusement factor to that.

"Yea? What about the Egyptians or Romans or Greeks?" Brian suggested. He figured that's likely more what the teacher was expecting out of the kids. But maybe coming up with Vikings would get Big Man some kind of bonus points. Might be a path less travelled. Nothing wrong with that.

"Or the Mayans or Aztecs," Jack put flatly.

Ben squinted harder at his uncle. "You're makin' stuff up."

"Am not," Jack said.

And the squint-eye set on him longer. Brian broke it up.

"OK, Big Man," he said. "I actually want to take a look at your agenda. Let's get you set up at the table. Know we'll both be in the doghouse if you aren't started on your homework by the time your Ma gets home."

"But, Dad," Ben whined that time, "I don't have any homework but that. And VIKINGS!"

"Yea, Vikings," Brian mumbled. "Get your bag. Let's see. And go tell your sis I want to see what she got sent home with today too. Chillax time's over."

Ben gave a bit of a dramatic huff and did his best to sulk out of the room and loudly stomp up the stairs.

Brian shifted his eyes back to Jack – and he made them go stern again. Because he was pissed.

"Don't pull shit like that," he said. "You know the plan. Cragen's coming over."

"I can take Emmy too," Jack said, crossing his arms and tugging again at the sleeve that had pulled up, trying to keep it in place. "Hit the playground."

"It's a school night. You know we're behind schedule. You know we like them starting bedtime routine at eight. You aren't going up to fucking Williamsburg," Brian put to him pointedly and then looked at him even more pointedly. "And put on a fucking hoodie. Or Liv's goin' be all over you about that," he nodded at the arm.

Jack tugged on the sleeve again. "It's nothing."

Brian shook his head. "Sure, Kid. Renee's reaction what has you over here?"

And Jack's arms uncrossed – the shirt sleeve rode up slightly again just showing off the bottom of the gauze that very clearly betrayed that the Kid had a fairly fresh tattoo working through its first few days over healing underneath.

"What's the fucking big deal?" he pressed at him. "You've got tattoos. More than one."

Brian nodded and looked back to his cooking. "Yea, and speaking from experience, you think your significant other's reaction sucks – wait until you get an earful from your mom."

"Whatever …," Jack muttered and sunk back onto the counter again, just starting at him working at getting the seasoning of this thing right. It was hard to find the sweet spot when he had people who thought pepper was 'spicy'. "You don't have to rail on me just for wanting to spend a bit of time with him."

Brian cast him a look. "That really what you doing there, Jack?" he said. They both knew that was bullshit. "You get lots of opportunity to spend time with him. We asked you to spend time with him, Em tonight. You told us that wasn't a possibility. We made other plans. You don't go derailing that."

And the Kid's arms crossed again. Brian just shook his head at that.

"You still haven't let Liv know if you're joining us on Saturday," Brian put flatly – but firmly.

Jack shrugged. "You still haven't told me what you're doing."

Brian cast him another look. "Does it matter? It's Ben's birthday."

And it got a shrug. "Yea, well, I'll likely come for dinner and cake and that. It'd be better for me if you did that Sunday. But whatever …"

Brian glared at him. "Better for you? It's your nephew's fucking birthday, Jack. You just said you want to spend time with him. Liv has filled you in on the kind of shit week we're wading through here. What's going on with him."

"Yea, well, I work Saturdays."

"You work?" Brian put to him. "You mean you go and fuck around at Gecko's."

"I manage the fucking Skate School programming," Jack pressed back. "And the fucking project I'm on at my 'real' work is all about public engagement and community feedback. My fucking employers care that I work at Gecko's and have a pulse on the community and the Grommies and their parentals. OK? It's not fucking around at Gecko's. It's priming a feedback group ahead of submitting a pretty fucking big bid that is a pretty fucking big deal that I'm getting to be involved with at all."

Brian just looked at him – and the tone he'd given. "Done?"

Jack exhaled and shook his head, staring at the ground and crossing his arms tighter. Clearly another sore spot had been hit.

"Sometimes if feels like none of you take what I do seriously," he muttered. "Not you or Mom or Renee. You all tell me to get a job and not do more school. And then … I don't know … I guess I got the wrong job for you all."

Well that was telling. And Brian again filed that away.

"All I asked was to get some confirmation on if you were gonna show up for your nephew on Saturday," Brian said calmly.

There was another long exhale. And the Kid finally looked up at him. "I'll be over by dinner," he provided – a whole lot more evenly. "Getting to morning stuff will be harder for me. So it kinda depends on what you're doing and when you're doing it."

Brian allowed a nod at that slightly more reasonable response. Wasn't great – seeing as Ben's birthday came every year – so with the kind of job the Kid did work, technically he likely should've more than been able to plan for it and have the day off. But Jack really just sucked at that kind of communication and confirmation and commitment.

It was this fucking lackadaisical route it took with being part of the family. Sometimes it was like he was fucking testing how much of a Jack-Ass he could be and they'd still love him. Or just how much they'd beg and plead with him to show up at anything. Like that was declaring some kind of profound love and need for him to be in every 'special' moment of their mundane lives.

Instead it actually generally meant he missed out on a lot of moments because he played these little games – one month. And then the next … it was all peachy.

It was just fucked up. And Liv was more forgiving of it in some ways than Brian. The whole Jack's fucked up thing. Screwed up childhood and abandonment issues and missing mommy and dead daddy and abuse and frontal lobe still (almost) forming shit. But whatever. Him and Liv had a whole lot of ticks on that checklist too and they weren't as much of a Jack-Ass as Jack could be at times. Sometimes Brian wondered if it had more to do with some kind of brain damage – rather than emotional baggage. Either that or there was just some kind of serious mental illness with the kid above and beyond PTSD and depression and anxiety and all that.

Whatever it was – still lack of real clarity from Jack on Ben's birthday. Basically radio silence on what his interest level – and availability was – for Liv's birthday. So Brian still didn't know if he was looking at booking a reservation for the family – and what kind of place – or if he was looking at take-out at home or if he might actually do the home-cooking and get to save the cash and take his wife out to a nice meal at a place she'd actually enjoy for them to eat at a time that grown-ups actually ate at and enjoy some time that didn't include kids (and/or an over-grown kid).

Just … what-fucking-ever.

"Ben wants to go to Governors Island," Brian provided. "Likely will make a day of it if the weather holds out."

"Weather is supposed to be shit this weekend," Jack muttered. "Rain."

Brian shrugged. "Yea. So we'll see what he wants to do if it's pissing out. We're keeping the Spy Museum thing as an option in our back pocket," he said a bit more quietly.

Jack rolled his eyes. "What's with him and the spy stuff lately?"

"Gee, don't know," Brian said. "It's like he's got parents who are detectives or something."

Jack made something that was sort of amused but more annoyed noise. "I'll likely be able to meet you by like 11:30, noon."

"OK …," Brian allowed. It was reasonable. In some ways it was better. Gave him and Liv the morning with their kids. Let them have their family time. Their traditions. Go at their own pace. And their own rules. Jack was family but sometimes his actions and attitude throw a bit of a wrench into things. Really depended on the Jack they got on a given day.

"And no one's coming to dinner? Dinner's still here, right?"

Brian shrugged. "Yea. We're just planning on tacos. And my mom. Cragen, Eileen. I invited Johnny. He's about as good as you about getting back to me and firming up on shit."

Jack exhaled at that and gazed at him. "Renee invited to any of this?"

Brian allowed a little shrug at that, cocking his head a bit. "Your call."

And he left it at that – because they both knew that the kids interacted with Jack differently when Renee was around. Ben just didn't interact with him much – at least not when he was near Renee. And Em usually took more of an interest in being a social butterfly with the girlfriend. Either way – the dynamic definitely changed. The kids knew Renee. But who she was – and her role and dynamic and place – in their lives and the family unit. All this relationship shit had shifted it. She'd gone from someone Mommy was 'friends' with to Jack's 'girlfriend'. It was more than kind of confusing to the kids – even if they did like her. So, yea. Up to Jack to decide how he felt about that and what he wanted out of the day – Ben's day. And what that meant about if Renee should be there or not.

There was a thud upstairs and both their eyes drifted that way. Brian could tell it was in the kids' bedroom – not the little playroom. But they made a bad habit out of jumping off the upper bunk. Treated the set up in there like some kind of jungle gym.

"Sure taking a real long time for your butts and your backpacks to appear down here," Brian called.

There was some loud whispering between the kids but then it grew quiet again. Brian shook his head and looked back to Jack. The kid was just staring at him.

"What?" he nodded at him.

Jack exhaled slow and shook his head long and slow as he did.

"Da—" he started and came to a abrupt stop and cast embarrassed eyes at him briefly before staring at the ground. Those arms going tight around himself again. "I mean, Brian …"

Brian kept his eyes on him for a long beat. Weighed that. Jack had had some slip ups immediately after talking to the kids and then talking to him. Using "your dad" with the kids and then moving right into conversation with him and it getting garbled in there too. They never commented on it when it happened. Neither of them.

This was very different slip-up than those other times. But Brian also knew it wasn't something to provide any kind of comment on either. It was a slip. He wasn't Jack's dad. Didn't know what he was. Liv's boyfriend-turned-husband. Sometimes he felt like something like a big brother or uncle or just … whatever Johnny was to him. Another relationship that was hard to put any kind of label on. So it was more about the timing of the slip up. The tell about what might be going on with the kid or through his head for him to be there and to be sulking around like this.

"So, I think I've kinda fucked things up with Renee," Jack provided quietly, giving another glance off toward the stairs – listening for a beat to see if the kids were coming back down yet.

Brian nodded at that and shifted – out of common courtesy – his attention back to working at getting skillet to simmer now that the rice and tomatoes were in there. "What happened?" he asked.

Jack shrugged and slouched against the counter some more. "She finally let me fuck her."

Brian pushed the food around with the spoon. "She finally let you fuck her or you finally let her fuck you?" he put flatly.

He was pretty sure Jack's own issues were as much of a stalling point in him having any kind of active sex life than they were of any romantic partner. Pretty sure that was part of the breakdown of his and Christina's relationship. And pretty sure it likely contributed to whatever blue balls he had going on with Renee.

Brian got it. He'd been there. From a whole lot of different perspectives. This kind of shit fucked you up. Fucked your sexual response and sexual desires up. Fucked your performance up. Made you just not even want to think about it. Sometimes celibacy seemed like a better option. Maybe not so much to the other party in the relationship, though.

And that hung there for a long time. Long enough that Brian gave the kid a glance. He was staring at the floor for that one. There was some confirmation of some sort. At least some acknowledgement.

"You guys have been together a while," Brian provided.

Jack gripped at his crossed arms again and gave a little shrug. "Yea. I guess. I don't know. Depends on how you count."

Brian made a little noise at that and gave the kid a look. "Yea. I hear you. Twenty-one years or seven. Take your pick."

Jack allowed a little nod but was still staring at the floor. "Honestly, shit started to shift into the, you know, something realm, got real realm, like a year ago. Not like February. Like Ben's birthday last year. Remember? She dropped in. Mom invited her."

Brian nodded. "Bit of a wait."

The kid's head just bobbed at that. "We did other stuff," he put out there in a mumbled whisper. "It was … is … just … complicated."

"Sure …," Brian allowed.

And it hung there again. So he cast Jack another look.

"You guys care about each other enough – respect each other enough – you wait that long, I'm calling bullshit on anyone 'fucking' anyone," Brian put to him.

There was another long exhale and Jack looked up at him. "I told her I loved her."

And there was a beat.

"That happens," Brian offered.

Jack looked him right in the eyes. "I was inside her when I said it."

And it hung there again.

Brian made himself shrug. "OK," he allowed. "Sometimes that happens too."

"Yea … right …," Jack muttered.

"What'd she say?"

Jack shook his head. "She sorta said it back. But then not after. And we were at her place and her roommate was around in the morning. And so we didn't talk about any of it. And now … I don't know. She hasn't been responding to my texts. All I've heard from her is that … work. You know?"

"Maybe she's busy with work," Brian said.

"Or she's ghosting me because I freaked her the fuck out and she doesn't feel that way at all."

"Or she's freaked the fuck out because you're the first guy she's had anything real with since what happened to her and that's enough of an emotional minefield – and a whole other layer got added to it with that slipping out of your mouth."

"Yea. So I fucked up," Jack said. "I fucked it up. Us up."

Brian shrugged a bit. "Jack, no matter how you cut it – two people who are willing to work through the other's shit for almost a year – care about each other. OK? Yea. You probably freaked her out a bit. She likely just needs some time to sort out how she feels. You should probably be using the lull to figure that out too."

"What's that mean?"

Brian gave him a look. "Do you still feel like you love her now? Or did you just love you were finally getting your dick wet with someone you felt you could trust?"

Jack made a little noise. "I don't fucking know," he muttered. "I thought I knew …"

"Yea, well. Most of us aren't exactly thinking much when we're balls deep …," Brian said.

Jack sighed and stared at the floor. "She's … an amazing friend."

Brian shrugged. "My experience – adding sex to an amazing friend – it's complicated. And it can take fucking years to sort out."

Jack looked at him at that. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something else. But then the front door open.

"Hi," Liv called as she stepped in. "I'm so sorry I'm running lately. Something smells great."

And the rhino hooves of their kids started charging back down the steps with shrieks of 'Mommy' and her chattering at them as Brian knew they were barging into her for a full-on hug.

And he just looked at Jack – his sullen, embarrassed face.

"You respect her," Brian stated. "Care about her. Share a history. A foundation. Very least. So don't sulk around here and wait twelve years to talk to her and work at figuring it out," he said.


	3. Taco-bout A Good Party

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

"Hey," Olivia called at Brian and his head slowly rotated to give her a questioning look. She nodded at the Lego box he clearly didn't realize he'd been staring at for an extended period of time. So long that she'd wandered all the way down the aisle – and the next – and back. And he was still looking at it. Though, apparently at some point in that wandering he'd at least focused his intended contemplation enough that he'd managed to turn it around and look at the back. "So is that the set you want to get him?"

His gaze still looked confused for a beat – like he really had to process what she was asking, like it didn't make any sense. His mind was so far away that he also clearly had forgotten momentarily that he was even looking at the Lego set. But then it clicked and his eyes went back to the box.

"Yea, I dunno," Brian muttered and turned the box back around in his hands. "He'll like the truck, maybe the crane. The rest he doesn't really give a shit about."

It'd sure taken him a long time to come to that conclusion – to a reality they already knew. The Lego City sets – that were their go-to when Benji decided he needed yet another fire vehicle – came with a lot of buildings that were a pretty boring build and a pretty giant breakable playset that took up a whole lot of space and left a trail of a whole lot of pieces to be lost and stepped on.

Olivia pointed just down the aisle to the Technic sets – some sort of fire department SUV. "I like the price on that one better," she said. The $35 was a lot less painful than the $100 on the ladder truck set Brian was transfixed on.

Brian looked but made a sound. "He hasn't done Technic before."

Olivia shrugged. "He wants a big kid set," she provided and gestured between the age ranges of the two. The one Brian had might be 1,000 (ridiculous) pieces – but it clearly said it was for ages six and up.

It got another sound out of Brian. "Jack might end up taking over."

Olivia allowed her own small acknowledgement at that. It happened. So much so that they were STILL getting Jack a Lego set of his own at Christmases so that the kids had a crack at doing their own thing without him getting in on the fun. Though, the kids were getting more and more vocal – and capable – of telling their brother-uncle to keep his hands to himself. They really didn't need much help when it came to Lego. And when they did …

"That'd be awful," Olivia teased, "when I know Daddy wants to be the one helping."

He cocked his head at her a bit – an acknowledgement that Brian very much did like his turn to play with the bricks or at least look at the ingenuity and engineering behind the builds. But he didn't much like being called out on it.

"Leave that one," she encouraged a bit more firmly. "If he's still set on it in a few months, he can let Santa now. Maybe his workshop will know where and how to procure a 1,000 piece Lego set for under a hundred dollars."

"That'd be a Christmas miracle," Brian said – and he was right.

For a set that size – there likely wasn't going to be any sales. Though, they'd gotten pretty proficient at knowing when the fall sales did happen on Lego in the lead up to the holidays. They were both on the Lego mailing list. This was what her life was – at home – now. Olivia Benson … the Lego buying mom on a stupid number of coupon, free activities, open play, parks and rec and library mailing lists and PTA email blasts. Olivia Benson … spending her Friday night at the giant Target not far from Cragen's place in Bensonhurst so find her child a birthday gift and buy a boxed cake mix that she'd likely still manage to somehow bake wrong. She already knew she'd buy two boxes because of exactly that. It was the thought and effort …

This was now part of her life.

Though, when it came to the Lego, a lot of the time picking out the actual set she ultimately deferred to either Jack or Brian. They seemed a whole lot more opinionated about it than her. There was a long list of criteria that determined the cool factor and value factor to them. Olivia was pretty sure if it was a firetruck or a dragon, Benji would be fine with it. So her underlying decision-maker was always the price.

It'd become a part of her autumn routine. Her holiday and gift routine for her little boy and now her little girl. Emily was about as Lego obsessed as her big brothers (and her Daddy, another thing that Brian wasn't going to admit …). But Olivia actually found her daughter almost more fun to play Lego with. Emmy was at least was interested in just building with the blocks and not just following the instructions to put some set together to look at on the shelf for eternity.

Olivia wasn't sure how many more years Lego would be on Benji's wish list. Or how much longer she'd be willing to even consider them given the price point that the bigger sets came with that her 'big boy' was now wanting. Not when she was starting to see more and more the 'big boy' things he was wanting and the prices on the videogames and pieces of technology and brand name, logo bearing sports equipment, clothing and shoes.

It was teaching them a lot as people and parents about boundaries and limits. About how to help their kids to fit in and where and when they'd have to just learn to make do. About what their family values were. Where they stood on technology and commercialism and materialism. Standing firm on family and experiences and time together – not stuff or some logo that everyone else is wearing or some plastic toy knick-knack that will be broken and forgotten about within a week. Not videogames or movies or TV shows that 'everyone else' gets to play or watch.

But she was already feeling the shift happen of some of the pressures moving from passing childish fancies whined at her and then dropped to more concrete peer pressure of Benji trying to fit in. And her and Brian wanting him to have that opportunity – without more labels and flashing signs about him than he already had. Middle school and pre-teens. And an opportunity for new friends and new dynamics and new impressions. And their little boy – who was trying so hard to be a big boy now, who was growing up too quickly and was already an old soul to begin with – trying to find his way.

They were learning. Learning about middle school and parenting a pre-teen and raising a chronically ill, dyslexic child who'd been through severe trauma and suffered from PTSD, anxiety and abandonment issues. Sometimes she didn't think either of them knew what they were doing. Other times … she told herself, worked to convince herself … that her and Brian were the exact right people to be raising this child. The parents meant to love and support and care for Benji and Emmy. Adults who could get them – understand them – more than maybe these children would ever get to truly know.

"Yea … Technic is 10-plus …," Brian mumbled a bit and the City set got settled back on the shelf. "Five hundred pieces is a pretty good size. Decent deal for the price …", and he grabbed the set and put it into the cart instead.

But he stared at a box she'd set in the seat on her little circuit around the aislie while he'd stared into oblivion. It was an Escape Room in a box. One that claimed it was for kids ages 10 and up.

"It's on sale," she said. "We can put it away for another time. Or if it's raining tomorrow – or he's feeling off and we're staying in …"

And staying in was likely a strong possibility. Benji had seemed like he was dragging that night. Olivia wasn't sure — even if it wasn't raining in the morning — if he'd feel like doing much of anything that involved biking around a small island, running up hill, navigating balance beams, climbing cargo netting and grappling walls, and zipping down a zip-line Though, Benji might not entirely agree he wasn't up to any of that (or the laser maze, secret mission navigation and bomb defusing that the Spyscape Museum would entail — not that they'd told him that was a possibility in the case of rain). So, Olivia was kind of hoping that the Stargazer's Manor Escape Room in a Box game might be a reasonable way to convince Benji that spending a day at home was a viable option (though, if they let him open his presents in the morning she was pretty sure the sketch set they'd picked for him and this Lego set now might cause a few hours of stillness and quiet in their house too).

Benji had been asking about Escape Rooms for a while. There were a few family-friendly ones for younger kids and tweens around the city. And there'd been some kids who'd had birthdays at them last year. Benji had gotten to hear the kids talking about them – but, of course, had never gotten invited to them. Though, there seemed to be some glimmer of hope that might change. Even if he might've missed the whole kid birthday party stage – she wasn't so sure that was a middle school thing or the kids were too 'big' and grown up and cool for that. But they were starting to hear the names of some of his classmates mentioned on repeat – in positive ways. Activities at recess, play in the after-school gym, the group learning projects in the different classes. A playdate … phrased around 'hanging out' … had even been floated by Benji with 'Taylor' (who Olivia was so happy was even getting suggested she hadn't even clarified if 'Taylor' was a boy or girl).

But that was the faint hope they had now – that maybe they were starting to find a place for Benji and he was settling in enough to feel comfortable and confident enough to build some friendships too. That wasn't last year – or any of the many years before that – when playdates didn't happen and party invitations didn't come. So instead her and Brian had looked into the Escape Rooms as a weekend family activity but had been taken aback by the cost. If Jack had wanted to come with them, which she was very sure he would've – it was going to cost almost $175 for a one-hour activity. Maybe she shouldn't have been surprised – but she was. And Brian had definitely been an immediate hard-no. And she couldn't really fault him there.

But she wasn't impressed when, "How much is it?" came out of his mouth about the Escape in a Box game.

"Twenty dollars," she put to him bluntly. She thought about not answering at all. She really hated their confrontations – and conversations – about money and budget. And, yet, it seemed like they were having to have more and more of them lately. Reality and necessity was changing in their family life when it came to finances.

Brian made a noise and picked up the box to look at it. It wasn't a disapproving noise. And there wasn't further comment but she still weighed it while he read the back. It sounded fun. It sounded like something both their kids would be good at – and just love, especially with Benji's spy and detective thing he'd had going on lately. And it sure looked a whole lot less scary than some of these escape rooms they'd researched. They may let kids under 12 in with their parents – but Olivia sure wasn't sure they should be allowed in some of them with the themes and the dark and being locked inside. They didn't exactly sound like something that any of her three kids would particularly enjoy after they got in there – even if it sounded cool and trendy on the playground. And she wasn't any where near willing to pay $175 to be dealing with any – or all – of her kids getting triggered and the hours … days, night(mare)s, weeks … of fallout that could potentially cause.

"Emmy will be better at this than Big Man," Brian muttered as he read.

"Because of the reading?" Olivia pressed and caught a look from him. "It will be a family activity."

Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out to look at the screen. She rubbed at her eyebrow. "Have you heard of a movie called October Sky? Don wants to know if the kids can watch it."

"Never heard of it," Brian muttered again and set the game down.

He took over the pushing of the cart as she worked at keying in a reply: 'Sure, as long as it's PG and not scary'. But Don and Eileen already knew those general rules. She really doubted with a name like October Sky it was going to be anything too bad. But she Googled it quickly as she sent the text.

"It's about a kid who wants to be a rocket scientist," she called at Brian's back.

"Sounds like something Eileen picked and that the kids will be bored of in about twenty minutes …" he said and looked both ways at the end of the aisle, clearly trying to gauge where to next.

"I think it sounds like she's going to be giving them more ideas," Olivia said.

"Then next time she can be the one cleaning up the kids after the Coke bottle rocket experiment," Brian rasped.

Olivia smiled a bit. "I think the whole grandparent title means you get to do the fun part and not manage the fallout. Like your Mom bringing over a sugar bomb every visit."

Brian cast her a look over his shoulder at that, as he rocked against the cart. But he didn't say anything. He knew it was true – and before he didn't care about it much. Since Benji's diagnosis – and the kinds of medication and treatment he was on – he'd had more than one conversation with Janet about the hows and whys behind Benji's diet and how they needed her support in that. She was fairly good about it. The gluten she understood. Janet didn't quite get what constituted 'sugar' or 'low sugar', though. Or understand how some kind of sugar was in pretty much everything that you bought packaged in a store. So they'd had some missteps. And moments of her and Brian becoming the bad guys when they'd quickly set aside 'for later' (that never came and usually had to be switched out with something that was 'allowed') a treat Gramma had bought for them.

She rubbed at her eyebrow again. "They're just going to order pizza," she provided. "Are we going to want any?"

Brian turned her way again and gave a little shrug. "You hungry?"

"Not for pizza," she muttered. But that would be a nice treat for the kids.

Brian eyed her. "Did you want to grab an early bird special somewhere?"

She made a little noise at that. She wasn't sure where that would be in this part of Bensonhurst. Likely TGI-Fridays or something. And she wasn't spending money on that 'food'.

"Yea …," Brian mumbled as she got up next to him and pointed off toward the grocery section. Yep – her life had come to that too. She was going to do groceries in Target. But for what Benji had ordered for his birthday dinner she thought they'd likely be able to find most of what they needed there without having to make additional – more expensive – stops. "I just want to get home too."

She put her hand on his shoulder as he pushed – still slumped against the bar. He gave her another look. "You OK?"

He just made a noise and gave his head a bit of a shake.

"Work thing?" she asked. And he still just made a little noise. "Us thing? Kid thing? Benji thing?" she tried instead.

He sighed and straightened, giving her a look as they moved through the store. "All of the above …"

"Brian, what's wrong?" she sighed at him with that answer. "Is it the basketball shoe thing? If you feel that strongly that he needs basketball shoes, we'll get him basketball shoes. My comment was about … we just bought him new shoes for school. It's just …" she shook her head.

But he shook his too. "No, you're right. He doesn't need gym shoes that are going to cost us at least a C-Note."

She sighed at that. "Brian, you just stared for … I don't know, ten minutes … at a Lego set that was a hundred dollars. I am willing to spend the money on the shoes. Just say that's what you want to do."

He exhaled a bit and looked at her. "It's not that. It's …" He shook his head harder. "It's keeping him competitive. The caliber of play, the drills at the middle school level even with just this after-school program – it's changed."

And Olivia shrugged. "So then we get him better shoes, if that will help. We don't have the same kind of hockey expenses this season."

And he cocked his head at her again. "It's not that, Liv," he stressed again. "It's … all of this fucking shit. It's not knowing day-to-day whether he's even going to be up to going to school, let alone playing basketball. It's not knowing if he'll feel up to go to the fucking park tomorrow for his birthday. All our kid wants to do is go to the fucking park and what … we can't even firm up on that. Or the museum. It's always having to have a back-up plan for our back-up plan," he said and gestured at the boxed escape room. "It's the fucking insurance companies running us around in circles about whether or not he meets these bullshit medical criteria for them to pay for this fucking immunoglobulin therapy. The doctor says this our best bet. How is that not fucking enough for these fucking vultures?"

Olivia found his hand where it was white knuckling the cart and she wedged her hand under his – forced him to hold hers, weaving her fingers with his and squeezing tightly. "You need to stop," she nodded at him. "Stop worrying about that. However it works out, Brian – he'll get the treatment and it's not going to irrevocably bankrupt us. Worst case – is racking up some credit card debt or we'll go a few months behind on our mortgage payments."

"And if he needs several rounds of this shit? Two, three, four rounds, Liv? Again if it flares up the lung tissues bad down the road? At seven-grand a pop?"

She kept his eyes. "Let's just focus on Round One. We'll see how he does. And if it helps him, Brian, we will do what we need to do. He is our son. The money doesn't matter. He matters."

Brian hung his head a bit. And Olivia set her hand against the back of it – striving to help calm him while he worked at calming himself too.

"I feel like I'm losing him in all this. We're having to move away from all this shit where I found common ground with him. To this art stuff and the museum stuff. And I don't get it. I try but it's not my fucking thing, Liv."

She crunched her fingers through his hair. "The kids are your thing, Bri. It doesn't matter what they like. You love his art. You don't have to understand it. He's not at the point where he's needing or wanting that from either of us. He just loves to draw. We just have to let him draw, paint. That's all."

"Yea, but it's not. And what if some other vulture sees the gap – sees the vulnerable kid or the kid who has Daddy issues – and moves in."

She sighed and shook her head. "Brian, that's not going to happen. We don't have to love everything the kids like to be there for them. To show up for them. You show up. You always have – it's why you are their Daddy."

He just made a sound and she ran her nails against his scalp again. He straightened a bit – trying to end his public breakdown. But also to look her in the eye.

"There's a case at work," he said. "One with kids."

"No one can handle the ones involving children," she allowed. And she knew that right now – with Brian – that would be even truer.

"It's this guy who basically established his own personal brothel with his 'nieces' and 'nephews'. It's just …" he shook his head. "I'm doing the projection thing. It's getting to me – my stuff. But some of these kids – this one little boy – some of the pictures we're having to go through with the investigation. It's got me … I'm seeing Ben too much."

She found his hand again and squeezed harder. "Don't go there," she said. "That little boy is not Benji. And the little boy we have at home, Brian, he's not the same little boy who lived on that farm – because he has us. Because he has a Mommy and a Daddy and a little sister and a big brother-uncle. We have a little-big boy who's waiting for us to pick him up from his grandparents so we can go home to a sleepless night because he's so excited about a birthday 'party' with his family. So what we need to be focusing on is … if Betty Crocker makes gluten-free cake mix that isn't overloaded with sugar and just where Target shelves their Old El Paso boxes. OK? Because taco 'bout a good 'party'. Right?"

It got a little smile out of him. A small amused noise. And he gave a little nod.

"OK …," he mumbled. "And … if Target carries a spy-firefighter watch that is under forty-bucks."

"Oh, I'm absolutely sure Target is definitely the place to go to for that," she said and put her hand on his back as he pushed forward. As they both did – again. Together.

**AUTHOR NOTE: **

**Reviews and feedback are appreciated — in this chapter and others. In this story and others.**

**Not sure what the next chapter/scene will be in this AU.**


	4. Ticked Checkboxes

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

Olivia allowed Dr. Lindstrom a small smile as he held the door open for her to enter his office.

"Olivia," he greeted with a gentle smile of his own. "It's been a while."

She nodded with a little sigh, as she forced herself to find a seat and to try to feel comfortable in there. It always took a bit of time – no matter how comfortable and safe he made her feel.

It still took a lot of self-reminders – and some force on her part – to get herself to relax and let her walls down. To actually talk to him and to accept his help and guidance. She sometimes had to remind herself she was doing this for her – to be a better person, to be her best self. A better mother and partner and boss and wife. But mostly – for her. For her own well being and sanity.

"I know, I'm sorry," she said, though she knew it wasn't him who needed an apology. And he'd probably tell her just as much by the end of the session. It was herself that she needed to apologize to. Because by skipping and putting off their appointments - it was putting her own person and needs on the backburner – again, as usual.

But she sputtered on with her apology anyway: "I'd meant to schedule an appointment for after our vacation. But we got home and sucked right into back-to-school and playing catch-up at work. This time of year is busy enough there. And then Benji …" Benji. That was probably the real reason – the need that had driven her to schedule this session. But she wasn't sure she was entirely ready to wade into that immediately. "It was his birthday on the weekend," she provided instead in her ongoing timeline of excuses. She gave her head a bit of a shake. "The fall – now until the end of the year – it's always such a black hole. I guess I'm trying to pull myself out before I really disappear into it."

She knew Lindstrom was reading her – and every comment. Olivia knew that she'd been seeing him on-and-off long enough that he likely more than knew her tells and half-truths and defensive shields. He would've seen all of that drawn-out explanation for what it was. But he still gave her a small smile again and settled himself onto the chair next to the one she'd selected.

It was the one she always selected. But she was sure every patient was the same. They had a place that they favored and went to that comfort spot each and every appointment.

"How was your vacation?" Lindstrom asked – clearly having decided that was the best starting point or entry point into this overdue session. Maybe he was right. It somehow did feel easiest. But it also felt so long ago now. It felt like she was already counting down to another vacation that was somewhere far off in the distant future that she wasn't sure how to get to.

"Oh, you know, it was the 'honeymoon' anyone would dream about," she quipped, providing the air quotes for him. Though, she knew that her defensive quips and bits of sarcasm were always something he immediately picked up on – and generally frowned on. The ones he sometimes gently chastised her against. It was a form of self-deprecation.

But Lindstrom only tilted his head at her a little and sat back just slightly in his chair, as she crossed and uncrossed her legs, still trying to find the way to sit that made her most comfortable.

"You'd talked about taking the children to one of the theme parks?"

"I did," she allowed. "And we did. The Universal parks. We managed to hit all three – briefly. We barely scratched the surface." It got a smile out of him. A more sincere one – where she did her own clocking. She'd caught a glimpse of a tell in him. "You've been?" she put to him, even though she knew he generally redirected her when she started being the one asking questions. It wasn't why she was there. It wasn't an interrogation she was leading.

"I have," he allowed with a small nod. "But I suspect a lot has changed since then. And that ours approached it as much more of a command-and-conquer mission than your family."

Olivia allowed her own little smile. Lindstrom rarely said anything about his family – which was expected and accepted. It was a line in the therapist-patient relationship. But he must've known that she'd looked into him to have some concept of who he was and the kind of man and therapist he was – before she sent victims his way, before she'd sent Jack his way and before she'd settled into seeking some help from him herself. She knew he was pushing twenty-years her senior. That he was on his second marriage but had been with her for nearly forty years; that they had raised two children who would be in their 30s by now; and, a passing comment he'd let slip had been made Olivia more than suspected he'd been a grandfather for at least a few years at this point.

"Command-and-conquer we did not," she confirmed. "I know when Eileen's grandchildren visit – some of her daughter's kids are teenagers – and they go and manage a whole park in a day. I can't imagine. We did a land within a park. That was enough for a day. We didn't even venture into the Harry Potter Land."

"Oh, then, you'll have to go back …," he said with a small tease to his voice.

She again gave him a thin smile. But didn't respond. Everyone kept saying that. Eileen was horrified they didn't even attempt the 'Wizard World'. But they'd more than filled their days and the kids just weren't that into Harry Potter yet to make it worth it.

"How did Benji and Emily handle it? I know you were concerned about that," he redirected.

She nodded a little. "They did really well," she allowed and let herself rest her elbow against the back of the chair and her head find her hand for support as she examined him as he examined her. But she let herself smile a little while she thought of them. She let herself exhale – a sigh of relief almost.

"They're fun ages. Just … watching more and more of their personalities and interests come out. How they interacted with different parts of the experience. What they wanted to do. Emily is really No Fear. A little dare devil. She was a lot more interested in some of the more intense rides than Benji. I wasn't … exactly surprised by that. But it was interesting to see how it played out. She was so adamant rollercoasters were scary before we went in – and then, nope, she's pulling Daddy into line while Benji and I went and did the comic drawing class yet again."

Lindstrom smiled at that but looked her a bit more in the eye. "And how did Brian do? You had concerns about that too."

She sighed a little and shrugged. "He's … hypervigilant," she finally settled on. "He had a couple … unnecessary confrontations when he felt people were … looking at him or the kids the wrong way."

"And how'd you handle that?"

She exhaled and shook her head. "The way I always do. Calm him down and apologize to the person who's head he bit off."

Lindstrom just gazed at her for that comment.

She deflected again, "But … even with the crowds and us having to do some real tag-teaming with the kids, I think he had fun. I mean … he put up so much of a fight about getting down to Florida with the kids, but he's actually expressed interest in wanting to go back. And after being so opposed to doing a theme park with the kids – especially Disney – he has even floated trying a couple of their parks next time we go down."

Lindstrom took that in for a moment. "That sounds fun."

She shrugged. "I hope so. If it happens. It only took us … five years to agree on this trip."

He allowed her a thin smile. "And did you manage to get some alone time together on this vacation?"

She nodded and rubbed at her eyebrow. "We did," she allowed. "It was our 'honeymoon' after all," she quipped again. But Lindstrom again just gave her that examination. And she sat back a bit in her chair. "Don and Eileen were happy to take them. We had had a couple hours to ourselves most days and got in a few dinners on our own."

"And how was that?" he asked when she didn't provide more.

"It was nice," Olivia said. "We don't get a lot of that … in daily life. At home. We had been trying to make more time for it, but …" she shrugged and gave Lindstrom a thin smile. "Brian actually … he'd expressed last week we were falling back into that trap again. He … wants us to pull ourselves out of that black hole too … before we're sucked into it again."

"And what about you? Is that what you want?"

She tried another joke. "I don't usually turn down a nice dinner out that someone else is paying for." But it only got a tilted head again – that gentle chastise at her defensive mechanism. So she sighed. "He's right. We do need to make the time." She shook her head a bit. "I guess I get frustrated about … how hard we have to work at finding the time to connect. But I know … we … I … need to make the time to keep working on our relationship. And, I guess I find that frustrating too."

"Relations – and marriage – tend to be a lot of work."

She rolled her eyes a little at that. "I guess it's good to know we aren't alone." But she caught he hadn't liked the eye roll and she sighed. "I just sometimes feel like it would be very easy for Brian and I to slip into being glorified roommates again."

He nodded. "And, Olivia, you might be surprised how many couples feel that way when the relationship is being balanced with our jobs and raising our children. You're right – relationships and marriage – they are a lot of work and they do require us to make the time and put in the active effort to maintain them."

She made a small sound of acknowledgement but just kind of stared at the back ledge of the chair she was in.

"Is that what you'd like to work on today? Talking about these first months of your marriage? What married life means to you? What your relationship with Brian looks like right now? Or what you'd like from it in the future?"

She sighed a bit. "I think I'm still working at learning what exactly it means to be a wife," she admitted. "And, it sounds …" she shook her head and rolled her eyes at herself again. "I've known Brian so long. I've been with him – raising children with him – for so long. I guess I didn't really expect much to change with the title of 'wife'."

"What do you feel has changed?"

"Everything and nothing," she quipped and then added quickly, "That's what Brian says. And he's right. It's changed everything and nothing."

"Explain to me what you mean by that," he said.

She allowed herself another slow exhale and stared at the wall off behind him. "There's been positives," she said. "There's absolutely been positives in the changes. And … some of the changes I feel … they aren't necessarily bad and they aren't anything he's really done or asked of me. It's more like …" She took another deep breath and made herself look at Lindstrom. "I think before – without being his wife – there were certain checkboxes that I just didn't feel it was my responsibility to tick off for him. And now I do."

"Can I ask what some of those checkboxes are?" he put to her carefully.

She gauged the response – and tone of the question. "Not those kind of checkboxes," she sighed but then shook her head a bit. "But … yes, our … intimacy has changed too. But that's more connected to …" she made a little gesture and looked at him. She always felt awkward – and like some kind of traitor – when she brought Brian's trauma and past baggage into her sessions.

"I suspect that it all might be connected," Lindstrom said.

She stared passed him at his bookshelves again. "You're right," she finally admitted. "I … we've been doing this … thing, for a while. To get him better at telling me what he needs from me. Friend, partner, lover, wife."

"I'd say all those are closely connected too. The first three – creating the fourth, Olivia. A partner, friend and lover should generally yield a spouse."

She exhaled a bit. "I know that. But somehow the first three – separately – feel easier. I guess as his wife, I feel more responsible for him. And to him. I keep finding myself feeling compelled to take care of him in … just a different way than before." She let herself look at Lindstrom again. "I find myself … trying to comfort him a lot. And I don't mean …"

"You're feeling a bit more like a stereotype than you'd like? The submissive, doting wife?"

She tilted her head at him and allowed him a thin smile. "Maybe," she allowed. "But the funny thing is – I'm sure Brian would tell you that submissive and doting are not checkboxes I come anywhere near ticking off. And he hates – HATES – if he feels like I'm mothering him. And, I hate it when I go into that mode too. I'm not his mother. He has a mother. He's a grown man. But sometimes … I do see … the young man or the boy. And … " she sighed. "I do go into mothering mode. I know I do."

"Comforting and taking care of those were romantically love does not mean we are going into mothering mode," Lindstrom said. "I am very sure the way you and Brian comfort each other and take care of each other is different than the love, comfort and care you direct at your children. It sounds like you might be projecting a bit onto Brian?"

She shrugged. "I know I am doing that too. I know … the trauma Brian is working at healing from … it's changed our relationship. The way I see him. And just things in our family. I look at things Jack is going through now in his twenties and I find myself looking back on my relationship with Brian in our twenties and thinking about … past that can't be fixed so instead it makes me worry about the now for Jack and what his future might look like. Comparing them. I look at Benji and do the same. And Benji just turned eleven. That's when it started with Brian and there's all these anxieties bubbling up in him. Triggers and worries. I feel like we're walking on eggshells right now. This fine line."

Lindstrom nodded and sat back a bit. "Is Brian seeking counseling right now?" he asked.

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow and exhaled.

"Olivia," he stressed a bit firmer. "I can give you a list of therapists who specialize in helping male victims. We can find him a male or female counselor – in an age demographic he'd be comfortable with."

"He's tried," she offered. "It's not really his thing. He wants to do this 'his way'."

"I understand that," he said. "And I am hearing clearly from you that he wants to be able to let this go and to move on. I think that is very good news – a good starting point. But, I want to stress again, that Brian – for the sake of your family, and for your sake – should be seeking some help through this. Especially if there are triggers in your family life right now."

"He's a wonderful Daddy," she said. "The kids adore him. They'd be lost without him."

"I hope you are telling him that," Lindstrom said.

"I do …," she allowed quietly.

He allowed her a little smile. "And does he tell you the same? Give you the same assurances about your parenting? Do you feel he's ticking off checkboxes you have? Is he taking care of you? Comforting you? Being the kind of doting husband you'd like?"

She sighed a little.

Lindstrom nodded. "I suspect that maybe him meeting those requirements might be hard for him right now with what you described. But since we're here to talk about you, Olivia, I need to ask if it's accepting Brian's shortcomings or is it that you are still struggling with the self-worth in feeling you are deserving of having someone do or be any of those things in your life?"

She allowed him a look. But she didn't know what to say. This was an ongoing conversation they had. She kept working on it – but it was hard to put aside a lifetime of not feeling like enough.

"I'm not sure Brian fits my previously imagined expectations of what a husband was," she said. "But I do feel like he has a lot better idea of what he's doing than I do more days than not. Even with … all this other stuff."

"And do you know if that's the way he feels?" Lindstrom asked.

She sighed and shook her head. "I don't think he knows what he's doing either. Neither of us do."

"But you're working at it together," Lindstrom nodded at her. "You made that commitment to each other. He made that commitment to you, Olivia."

She sighed and stared off at his books again.

"You didn't answer if he's ticking your checkboxes, Olivia?" Lindstrom tried again. "Do you feel taken care of? Comforted? Loved? Are you letting yourself feel that way?"

She nodded and looked at him again, though she felt her eyes glass a little. "He's good at those things. He does those things. Or at least he tried really hard."

Lindstrom examined her again. "Are you telling him what you need, Olivia?"

"I'm trying to get better at that too …" But she sighed again and gazed at him. "I don't think either of us know how to comfort the other right now."

"Olivia … what's up?" he put to her more directly. "I'm not getting the sense that it really is Brian or your marriage that you want to work on here today."

She sighed and rubbed at her forehead. "It is and it isn't. It's like you said – it's all connected."

"Then let's pick the starting chute that you actually want to kick-off in," he pressed gently.

"It's Benji," she said flatly – more weakly than she wanted to.

Lindstrom observed her and gave a little, slow nod. "OK. He started middle school earlier this month?"

"It's not that," she sighed. "Actually, so far that's going almost shockingly well. I feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Catastrophizing, Olivia …," he chided gently. It was another one of her M.O.s that they'd been trying to work through and put aside.

She allowed a thin smile and rubbed more at her forehead. It felt like a headache was coming on.

"His birthday?" Lindstrom ventured when she hadn't offered more. "Brian triggered?"

She exhaled and looked at him, willing her eyes to not glass as they waded into this conversation. "No," she allowed. "His birthday had its hiccups. But it was because he wasn't feeling well. So the day – the weekend – didn't go the way Benji had wanted."

"OK …," Lindstrom allowed but observed her eyes carefully. "The lupus? You were supposed to have follow-up appointments this month?"

She nodded and tried to shrug it off. But the movement instead made the tears she'd been working on keeping at bay find an opening to slip out and she reached to squeeze the bridge of her nose to try to mask it. Lindstrom had stopped it, though, and shoved the Kleenex box on the table between them closer to her. She took a tissue as she let her hand come away from her eyes and tried to focus on him again.

"The treatment we did – did and didn't work. They're still seeing more disease activity than they want to in him. In his lungs… the lining. We're going to have to do a different type of treatment. It's expensive and …" she shook her head. "He's having more bad days than good. He's just tired and achy. The weather changes and temperatures. It's affecting his breathing."

"And it's affecting you," Lindstrom said. "And Brian. And Emily. And Jack."

Olivia allowed a weak nod. "I feel like … I've failed him as a mother. And I don't know how to fix it for him. I hardly know how to comfort him. I don't know when to push him or just let him rest. When to be stern or when to baby him. I don't know how to manage Brian's emotions about it or Emily's and Jack's confusion and their worry and need for attention too."

And she stared at Lindstrom. "And sometimes I'm holding him at night – when he can't sleep and his joints are hurting so much – and he just keeps asking if it was something his biological mother did that caused this and why Brian and I 'didn't make' him. And I don't know how to respond to that either. I feel like I don't know how to be his mother anymore."

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Reviews, feedback and comments are greatly appreciated.**

**I think I might like to just do some fun, mushy day-in-the-life type family moment chapters. Not really a flowing story with an end point or even chronological telling.**


	5. Jack-Ass

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

Jack finished his circuit around the pump track at Domino Park – coasting up and down the rises of the course. It was a real smooth ride. Definitely a leg workout but just insanely fun. And it was pretty much a case study in how to better utilize urban space. It was the fucking gentrification of skating – making ride space all wheel friendly. This place attracted everything from kiddies on balance bikes to the fucking inline skaters – and everything in between. Though, it was definitely meant to be a BMX park. But it was like every time he was there Jack was clocking how to do the redesign and pitch this to make it more aesthetically pleasing within an urban landscape. How this shit could be easily adopted into all kinds of spaces in the city.

But maybe it wasn't as killer as he thought if he was using Jamin and Emmy as a case study in the usability of this place. Because Em had all out disappeared – favoring the playground over the bike park – as soon as Brian had showed up. And Jamin had maybe whipped around the track like ten times before he'd dragged his bike up to the sidelines on the little bluff and planted his ass on one of the fences up there just taking it all in.

Like he wasn't already disappointed enough that neither of the kids had wanted to bring their decks over to the park. They'd both grabbed at their bikes and there'd been no persuading them otherwise. Though, he'd give that Jamin had definitely gotten pretty skilled at grabbing some air and managing some basic spins, stunts and tricks on his bike. It just sucked that he wasn't keeping up the tricktionary when it came to skating too.

Jack felt like he could put in another like hour or more figuring out what he could do on his deck and do with design potential. But he figured he should likely go and see what was up with the kid. Make sure he was OK.

He leaned against the fencing next to Jamin and gave him a bit of a once over.

"You seriously already spent?" Jack tried as a bit of a tease.

But Jamin just shrugged and kept looking at the guys flying over the real dirt jumps, bluffs and obstacles off on the other side of the park. "It's Friday," the kid said like that explained anything. Like that shouldn't be an excuse – beyond being hyped for the weekend. Freedom. Sounded pretty good to Jack.

So instead he just stared at the guys on their BMX and Mountain bikes too. They were seriously making it look easy. But he'd been skating long enough to know that any wheeled sport was just poetry in motion. It took a whole lot of work and practice to get it to look like taking flight was just a matter of making a jump on some hope and prayer. Practice, practice, practice. And a whole lot of eating of asphalt – or in this case likely some dirt and wood chips – a long the way. Lots of scraps, bruises, sprains and some broken bones for good measure.

"You waitin' for a break in the traffic? 'Cuz like you said, Friday – likely ain't gonna be one. Should likely go stake a place on the sidelines if you want to make a run."

And it only got another shrug. "I'm not allowed to do those runs without Dad."

Jack gave him a shrug at that. "I can watch you try for a brain injury just as easily as him."

Jamin gave him a look at that. Jack saw the flicker of hurt there and realized he'd said the wrong thing. He shouldn't have phrased it that way. Ben got all squirrel-y about smarts and reading stuff. But he didn't know how to backtrack without saying something that might make it worse.

"Dad does the jumps too," Jamin muttered.

Jack made an amused noise at that. "That sounds like a crash landing."

And it got some side-eye from the kid – and Jack caught that flicker of hurt again. "Why do you always hafta say mean stuff 'bout him?"

Jack gave him his own side-eye and kicked at his deck pulled up against his knee. "That wasn't mean," he contended. "Just a statement of fact. Dude his age …"

Jamin gave him a look. "Dad knows lots about bikes and riding."

"Mmm," Jack grunt. "Right, forgot, Brian knows everything about everything."

"Not everything …," Jamin whispered and pulled his bike closer to him, resting his chin against the one handle bar while he still gazed at the high-flyers across the yard.

Jack just stared at the kid, though. He sighed at him. "Jamin, c'mon, cut me some slack. I'm tryin' here. What's with the cold shoulder?"

The kid just shrugged at him – barely.

"Yea, OK, thanks," Jack muttered and watched the next couple guys race around the park's features. He'd rather be out there than over here doing whatever this was. But he looked at Jamin again. "Wanna go over to Odd Fellas and get some shakes or something?"

The kid's eyes still didn't move to him. "Don't eat sugar."

Jack snorted at that. "Since when?"

Jamin shrugged. "Since I'm not supposa."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Yea, that Mom or Brian's latest food loony thing they're slapping you with?"

That got a look. "The doctor said," Jamin croaked at him. "Sugar su-pess-es your immune system and I already got a bad immune system so I shouldn't make it badder by eating sugary stuff."

Jack just watched him – there was a whole lot of hurt and anger in that comment. "Sorry," he allowed. "I didn't know they'd said that to you."

Jamin rocked his bike a bit again. "Cuz you never come to anything. Dad's only not come to two."

"I think he's kinda supposed to go to them being your Dad and all …" Jack muttered.

"Yea and he does," Jamin said. "But you still say all kinds of mean stuff."

Jack sighed heavily at that and looked at the side of the kid's head – since Jamin wasn't looking at him at all. "I didn't know you wanted me to come to any of your doctor stuff."

And it got the most animated shrug yet. "I don't cuz you get all weird and scared 'bout doctors and hospitals and bein' sick. So you don't even want me to say nuttin' but lupus or nuttin'."

"Jamin, you can say things to me about the lupus stuff."

"No," he spit out forcibly, "cuz you just get all weird and mean. And don't come to nuttin' anyway."

Jack examined him. "This 'bout last weekend? Ben – I told ya. I had to work. Look, I'm here now. I'm tryin' to hang with you but you're giving me all kinds of attitude. It's kinda making me not want hang this weekend, you know?"

And Jamin just shrugged. "I don't care. Got plans anyway."

Jack hadn't meant for it to happen but an amused sound escaped him. "You've got plans? What? The library and Netflix? Cuz thought your mom and dad benched you with hockey."

And the kid really glared at him – his eyes glassing that time and Jack sat back a bit. He almost sputtered out an apology but sat back a bit and just stared at him.

"I can still play hockey! Dad takes me all the time! Maybe even tomorrow after me and Mom go to art class! And we're doing Family Fun Day Sunday," he pressed at him.

And again, he hadn't meant it to happen but an amused sound escaped him.

And Jamin's eyes glimmered more. "Dad's right, Peedg" he hissed at him. "You're a jack-ass."

Jack stared at him at that but the kid only madly wiped his eyes hard against his shirt sleeve and then rose, yanking his bike up and dragging it along with him.

"Jamin, c'mon," Jack sighed, calling after him.

But Jamin just mounted it and darted off toward the playground – to find his dad. Jack sighed a bit harder and picked up his board and trailed after him.


	6. Hard to Fix

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

**CHAPTER 5 WAS ADDED EARLIER TODAY — WITH LESS THAN 24 HOURS IT WILL NOT HAVE BUMPED TO THE TOP AGAIN AND THERE MIGHT NOT HAVE BEEN TWO ALERTS. PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU HAVE THE CHANCE TO READ IT. **

**GO BACK ONE CHAPTER AND CHECK.**

Brian gave Jack a hard look as the grown-ass kid came over and sat a couple feet down from them on the long row of stepped benches adjacent the playground. That was as close as he got – and apparently as close as he was going to get to giving an apology to his little nephew too. Not that Ben had got being a narc about whatever Jack had gone and said or done this time. Didn't really matter anyway and Brian could hazard a fair number of guesses about just the kind of jack-ass Jack had decided to be on that particular occasion.

Instead he looked back to Big Man and pressed a kiss against his temple while he tilted the water bottle up and urged the kid to hydrate a bit more. When they both came up for some air he whispered into his hair, "Go find Ducky for me," he said. "Your Ma will be here soon. We'll head home."

Ben leaned against him for a long beat. Thought maybe he was going to stay up. But then he did push up and do a wide-legged stride down the few steps and then headed off to the play structure. Didn't even do a cursory route around the playground to see if he could spot his sister – went straight for the centrifuge and the network of netting that lead to a long climb up to the almost-too-steep slide.

Predictable. Or the predictable place to find Ducky. It had been the last place Brian had seen her in her Ninja Warrior-esque attempt to tear through all the nets, corridors, monkey bars, conveyor belts and slides that made up this Top Five playground they frequented anymore.

Brian just kept his eyes over in that general area. Ben and Emmy loved getting all the way up to this park – and he'd admit that the play structure was something else. But he also hated how much of it was inside the various structures done up to make it look like a miniature version of the old sugar refinery that had once been on this site. It made it hard to keep track of the kids. You really had to watch for them to be poking their heads out the various portholes or chimneys or navigating along the conveyor belts to get to the next structure in refining the process of burning off some of the day's sugar.

"Not going to say anything?" Jack muttered off next to him.

Brian just shook his head and shrugged. "What do you want me to say, Jack?"

The kid just sat there for nearly as long a beat as Ben had. "I didn't mean to upset him like that. Kind of seems like anything I say or do with him lately just sets him off."

Brian just shrugged. He really didn't feel like engaging with it today. Reality was anything he said to Jack about any of it would likely set him off. He was willing to deal with Big Man's emotions and anxieties. He really didn't have the time, energy or space in his life to deal with Jack's right now. Not tonight.

"I was goin' to try to basically make up for last weekend," Jack said.

"You mean his birthday," Brian said even more flatly – trying to contain his annoyance at the kid. Not a kid – a grown-man who still acted like a teenager. Or who at least wanted to be treated like he was still a teenager in the family. Least it felt that way one second. Then the next it was that he wanted to be an adult. But it sure felt like he didn't know how to act like one – or even how to treat the family.

Jack just sat quiet again for a long time. "But he said you guys have plans this weekend …?"

Brian shrugged a bit. "Yes and no. It's in flux. It always is with Ben."

Jack stared at him. "OK. So what may you or may you not have planned?"

Brian rolled his eyes hard and cocked his head at him. "The usual, Jack. We have our fucking routines. Do I really need to run them down for you?"

"Family Fun Day Sunday?" Jack dripped with sarcasm at him.

"Yea, Jack," he glared, keeping his head cocked. "That's our routine. Just like you showing up to empty our fridge out after Sunday dinner is your routine."

"So what are you doing?" Jack pressed harder.

Brian just shook his head and went back to pinpointing the kids. "You know what we do on weekends."

"So nothing," Jack muttered.

Brian kept his head tilted at him. Hard. So he could imagine smacking him and how that might knock Jack's head straight for half a second.

Yea. They did nothing with their kids. If him and Liv did nothing with their kid, his own childhood must've been beyond nothing. Jack's childhood must've been next to nothing.

Him and Liv put a whole lot of time into their kids. They made a whole lot of time for family time. They give the kids one-on-one time. They made the most of living in the city and all the shit that was within about an hour drive of the city and a whole lot of other stuff they could get to on transit or bike or foot.

Hearing that they did 'nothing' with their kids, it just pissed Brian off. It just made him want to smack Jack up the side of the head even more. But that whole lot of 'nothing' - he knew that Ben and Em loved it. The loved the parks and playgrounds and Farmers Markets and cafe or bistros or donut plants with Mom. They fucking loved the museums and freebie art classes and STEM classes and library crafts and reading time and the YMCA community pool. The liked getting to pick out their Movie Munchie treat and getting to watch a weekend flick without it counting against screen time. They loved playing in the fucking back garden in a house that him and Liv busted their asses their whole adult lives not knowing that that it was a mortgage to give their kids that shit was that they were busting their asses off to afford. They loved getting to go to the Lego store for a free build or to the book store when they worked through their latest bedtime novel and were gonna get to pick out the next line of family attack. They loved helping Liv with her baking attempts at muffins and cookies and helping him get the grill ready for hot dogs or ribs or chicken legs (e.g. Dino Bones and Pterodactyl Wings). They loved big Saturday breakfasts he made them at home and their Sunday breakfast at some cafe or diner Liv picked on the weekends nearest to when they got paid. They liked getting to go to the basketball court or the open gym or the hockey scrimmage. They liked getting on their bikes and going over to Prospect or Brooklyn Bridge. They got how to just wander a neighborhood and make a day of it.

Yea. They did 'nothing' with their kids. And 'nothing' with their weekends. They were just a 'nothing' family and 'nothing' parents.

Fuck that. And his face must've said as much.

Because, Jack muttered, "Sure didn't sound like he wanted me around this weekend."

"You being around wouldn't be part of our routine much lately, would it?" Brian put to him pointedly. "Not even last weekend …"

Jack kept his eyes for a long beat until he looked away – but not to find the kids. He just stared at his feet.

"Did something happen this week or something that no one's telling me? With his appointments? He's acting off."

"He's exhausted by Friday," Brian put plainly.

And that hung there.

"He said something about sugar?" was all Jack stated.

Brian exhaled a bit. "Jack, we've been cutting back on his sugar intake and working at switching up and optimizing his diet since fucking March. This is not new."

"OK. Then something else? He seems all … pissy about something," Jack muttered. "Apparently I'm in the shit-house for not showing up at his appointments. I didn't even know he wanted me to come. I don't even think Mom tells me about half of them until after the fact."

Brian gave him a look. "Liv calls you after every single fucking one of these appointments, Jack."

"OK. Fine," he muttered. "Then what happened this week? Because I sure didn't hear anything new about anything and he's acting like … I don't know."

Brian started at him hard. "What happened, Jack, is that you didn't show up last Saturday until dinner and brought over Renee and all the whatever bullshit and tension you two have going on right now. So, your nephew, who really wasn't having a great day then also didn't feel like he got to see you or hang out with you on his birthday. And then you proceeded to make asshole comments about his fucking cake that Liv had fucking busted her ass on all night. So, yea, Jack – you more than sorta hurt both of them."

"See, no one told me that," Jack said. "No one ever tells me anything."

"No one should have to tell you that if you don't got anything nice to say to keep it to yourself in these kinds of circumstances, Jack," Brian pressed at him. "And, you know full-fucking-well you were an asshole – it's why you're here doing mea culpa tonight. But it's not that simple – not with an eleven-year-old kid and not with a fifty-year-old woman. And not when we all feel like you showing up right now has a whole lot more to do with you and Renee being on the outs and you not knowing what to do with yourself on a Friday night than it does you wanting to spend any kind of time with your family."

Jack stared at him. But then he stared at his feet. No contention.

And Brian just left it. He watched the kids scramble around and play. Them appearing and disappearing out of the various structures as they waited for Liv. So they could get to their routine. So they could walk over to the Tacocina behind them and grab some dinner – Brian so fucking hoped without Jack and this bullshit and stress and anxiety that he insisted on bringing home with him lately. So him and Liv could sit on the patio and watch the sun go down and feel the real fall chill start to set in while the kids regaled their mom with the stories of their day that he'd likely already heard at that point. So they could go home and watch an episode or two of some animal documentary or tacky cartoon from the '80s on the couch before getting the kids to bed. Because he could read his kids' body language – and he did know his kids – and he knew that on Friday nights played right they could get them down for a good-long count. So Brian knew he could then get his wife into bed – and it'd been the kind of week they both needed that. Though he had yet to see her to gauge on if they'd be passing out ASAP after that or if they'd be returning to the couch to go back down the rabbit hole in the binge watch of the latest Netflix show they'd found to distract themselves with. He almost hoped she'd be up to returning to the couch – and the way he knew she'd lay against him. That she'd likely let herself fall asleep and then startle awake and convince him to come try to sleep upstairs.

Routine. Friday routine. Followed by Saturday. Followed by Sunday. Their couple days of the week that were almost predictable even in their fucking unpredictability. And he'd fucking take them – without this added layer of bullshit that was already throwing off the whole evening.

"Just so you know I told Liv to keep her schedule clear for the weekend after next," Brian muttered – because he didn't want to do this song and dance again like Jack was the one getting fucked over. When he'd already repeatedly asked Jack what level of interest or involvement he wanted in being part of or planning Liv's birthday – and he'd gotten no feedback. "Going to get out of the city if everyone is up to it."

A change of routine. But needed – and still … routine. Family time on the weekend.

"For her birthday?" Jack asked.

"Yea," Brian provided flatly.

"I thought you were just taking her out for dinner," Jack said. "On the day."

Brian shrugged. "Think we could all use a change of scenery."

"Where you goin'?" the kid asked.

Brian leaned forward a bit in eyeing the kids. They'd clearly found each other – and had briefly emerged at the bottom of the slide before back tracking in the factory to try out some of the monkey bars and swing and pulley ropes on the center building. At least they could still play together and get along – for the most part – despite how fucking different the two of them were. Liv worried lots that there were too many years between Ben and Em. Brian wasn't so sure. Sometimes it was a bit of a pain in the ass but sure seemed like their four years or so was a lot easier to manage than the fucking dynamic that Jack made them try to balance in their family. Ben and Em looked out for each other better. There for each other. Em was just a little girl and she seemed to get how to comfort and take care of her big brother – respect his boundaries and limits and feelings, to even try to comprehend his illness – than Jack did.

"Storm King," Brian said flatly.

"The outdoor art center with all the sculptures?" Jack asked with this almost surprise.

Brian allowed a small sound of acknowledgement and a little nod.

"She'll like that," Jack said mutedly. "Jamin likely really will too."

Brian gave the kid a glance and then looked back to his own kids. "Yea, we all will."

Jack squinted at him like he was beyond confusing - like it was so fucking hard to believe. Just beyond his comprehension. "You hate art."

"I don't hate art," Brian scoffed with the fucking annoyance at how fucking black-and-white Jack made everything - even now.

"You hate art galleries," the kid put more plainly.

Brian looked him in the eye. "I love my wife. I love my kids. I like seeing them being creative. I like seeing what kind of 'art' they bring home to show off. I like they're their own fucking people, Jack. Liv puts up with a lot of things that I like that she doesn't. Things the kids like that neither of us give a shit about personally. You do shit together because you like being together. You do things the other people enjoy because you get enjoyment out of watching them enjoy it. That's how life - family, a fucking relationship if you want it to work - works, Kid."

And Jack still just stared at him.

Brian fought so hard not to roll his eyes. And not to smack him.

"I like being outside with my family," Brian muttered - like somehow that might make things clearer to the kid. "So it will be a good day. A drive. Some art. Take the bikes. Booked a room at the Bear Mountain Lodge if everyone's holding out OK. Make a real weekend of it."

"Bear Mountain? Isn't that where you guys usually go in the summer around your birthday?" Jack gazed at him.

Brian nodded but didn't move his eyes off Ben and Em. "Yea. The state park. This is this historic lodge that's on the outskirts. Real Adirondack stuff. Says every year we should look into staying. Fall colors should be out pretty good. Have a nice brunch, maybe take the kids on a little hike to an outlook or something before heading back. Really looking forward to it."

He gave the kid a glance and Jack was just looking at him. This real sad, vacant look.

"You can come," he offered flatly. Jack could likely tell he didn't really mean it. And it wasn't that he didn't mean – it was that he didn't mean it that night. Not with the way Jack was acting and the way Ben and Liv were being made to feel by him. "Just give me a bit more notice than morning-of."

Jack just shrugged at him. So Brian looked away. He wasn't going to push it. And wasn't going to play games. If Jack wanted to come – fine. But Brian wouldn't exactly miss his presence. Way things had been lately it'd likely be a nicer trip without him anyway. Not to mention, he might get some relative alone time – and privacy – with Liv (as much as that was possible with two little kids) without Jack tagging along.

"You sounded like you meant that," Jack said.

Brian gave him a shrug. "Sure. You can come. Not skin off my back. Just need you to accept we're working within Ben's limits – so there will be day-of, moment-of decisions happening."

Jack gazed at him. "I meant you saying you're looking forward to it."

Brian shook his head at him. "Right, shocker – I'm looking forward to spending time with my wife and kids."

Jack shrugged. "Sounds like you put a lot of thought and planning into it …"

Brian shook his head again. "Jack, you're pulling that shit again lately where you're trying to cast me as some kind of fucking dense, insensitive dunce the one minute and then wanting me to be your fucking rabbi the next. It's really pissing me off."

Jack just looked at him. Deer-in-headlights, faux innocent. Who fucking knew with this kid.

"Driving out to a place Liv's been talking about trying to get to for years doesn't require much planning. Just a bit of listening. Maybe you should try it a bit. With your girlfriend. And Liv. And your nephew."

Jack rested his elbows on his knees. "He doesn't talk to me about shit. Neither does Mom."

"They do," Brian stared at him. "You just are running your mouth so much all the time you aren't hearing any of it. You've got your head shoved so far up your ass, you're starting to look like a real ass-hat, Jack, and it's got a whole lot of shit tumbling out of your mouth. So shut it. Show up - honestly. And fucking listen. Because you're getting to the point that with him," he said and pointed over at Ben, "it's soon going to be hard to fix."

And Jack just exhaled hard and stared off into the playground too.


	7. Eye Connection

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

**CHAPTER 5+6 WERE ADDED WITH LESS THAN 24 HOURS APART. IT WILL NOT HAVE BUMPED TO THE TOP AGAIN AND THERE MIGHT NOT HAVE BEEN TWO ALERTS. PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU HAVE THE CHANCE TO READ IT. GO BACK AND CHECK.**

******** CONTENT WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS AN M.**********

"Kiss me," Liv breathed into Brian's ear.

And he listened – returning his mouth to hers again. She still tasted of the strawberries she'd hulled for the kids to snack on as they watched a movie a few hours earlier. Maybe just a hint of Paloma – the grapefruit in it – that she'd ordered with her meal. The drink choice that'd confirmed for him that she'd needed this tonight too. That and how her hand kept finding its way into his at the table while they listened to the kids banter, silliness and food commentary like they were some kind of master chefs when it came to chips and salsa. The looks – the soft smiles – she kept giving him as they stared at the little creatures that were theirs and stared off across the river at the city they worked in.

Brian knew her body language. And he'd known what she needed – and wanted – that night would be unrushed. And they hadn't been. The kids had passed out fast and hard. So that had meant they could go long and slow.

'Kiss me'. It was one of Liv's few verbal demands – or requests. Her other ones were just as simple and direct. That was Liv. Maybe it was even more so Liv when it came to sex. For all the ways they needed to work on communication, they definitely had communication down in the bedroom. But they had too. Maybe that was fucked up. But it also just … made him feel fucking closer to her.

He'd definitely felt closer to her that night. There'd been those moments where she grabbed at him like she was trying to figure out how to just get his body to merge with hers. Other moments where they'd been so close together – her legs and arms around him – that they might as well have been meshed as one.

And now he could feel it in their shared breathing. The taste and feel and heat of her just everywhere. It could fucking overwhelm the senses.

And then she went and did that thing of hers she did. That tease. Where her tongue stroked the top of his mouth. And he nearly choked – and nearly came – it felt so unexpected and so fucking good.

"Fuck," Brian groaned breaking away from her mouth and hanging his head a bit while he worked to recompose himself and keep the rhythm they had going. But he just felt her smile against his jaw and then her lips and teeth were there too. A fucking tease. But that was Liv too. She liked getting him good. And maybe he liked it a bit too.

"Look at me, Bri," she breathed at him.

He exhaled a bit and shifted some. He let his weight fall onto his one elbow as he did, giving them a bit more space but positioning them for a bit more eye contact without going cross-eyed.

Brian had struggled with the eye contact she liked for a long time. He'd really struggled with it again back around February when all that shit came tumbling out into the limelight. But he knew she needed it – maybe more since Lewis. And it wasn't like he didn't like watching her when he managed to get her off – or in the build up and watching her feel that kind of pleasure. Letting herself enjoy it and just letting herself let go a bit. But he also just figured Liv pulled off the beauty thing a whole lot better than him and whatever faces he pulled in the build-up and pay-off. Like she needed to see him grimace more than was his natural state of being.

But she still stared at him – her damp and lips parted slightly – with the slow rock they had going on. And she made a quiet sound amidst her quiet but aroused breathing. Her lips parting a little more to allow it. And he smiled at her. And she caught it and smiled up at him.

"Good?" he grinned.

"Mmm …," she allowed with more of a smile, and reached to pull his mouth back to hers. It was Liv who pulled away first that time – just barely. "Cum for me," she rasped at him.

He sort of would've liked to go a bit longer. He knew she'd already gotten off. But he also knew he could help her get there again in this position. If they kept at it but this was definitely a low and slow haul where the end game was only part of the goodness of the session. But it wasn't like he had a chance to go for any kind of game plan or looking at how to finish out this play – because she'd already made a move on both their behaves. She'd made the call. And That slight husk in her voice was enough to tip him a bit closer.

But it was that trick she did next that did him in. Her lips below his ear, her tongue pressed on his pulse there – and her fingers stroking along his jaw on the opposite side. Brian felt the twitch in him – and she must've too because he also felt her tighten around him in response. A quiet moan slipped from somewhere down in him. His breathing labored a bit more with it and he moved more firmly, letting his head hang again. He could definitely get there quick. God – he felt her everywhere. But his focus point became her fingers still stroking against his cheek and jaw. These little touches and massage of her finger pads. He could almost feel the ridges of her fingerprints.

"Look at me," she urged gently.

He exhaled hard and made himself look her in the eyes. He let her watch. Her one hand staying on his cheek while the other caressed at his bicep and then rested on his hip and then pressed and held onto his ass as he ground hard against against her. Keeping himself flush to her with swallow movements. It felt so deep. Her thighs and her abdomen and her breasts – her skin and her being – just there against him. So fucking close. So warm.

He kept feeling his eyes drift and her hand kept gently adjusting his head to bring them back to her. She was so there. So present. And Brian tried to stay there with her. Though his eyes got heavy with the arousal and then the fucking release. He felt that one. Pulsed out of him. He radiated in his spine. His back. All the nerve-endings in his skin – as much as it did inside her.

But as good as it felt – what he felt more was her hand right there – on his cheek.

Maybe what he felt more as he struggled to calm his labored breathing and his shaky muscles so he didn't collapse too much of his weight onto her was the simple – but so fucking profound – statement: "I love you."

Hearing her say it … it didn't get old. It still felt like he had to earn it every time. And every time she said it – it was like a jolt. Bigger – greater – than any orgasm. But he knew it too from that hand – right there, on his cheek – as he settled next to her and leaned in again to taste her and those faint strawberries and tequila.

"Love you too," he said.

That was his wife. His life. Strawberries and tequila.

Not a bad combination.


	8. Agility Test

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

"Well, I'm not sure who looks more amazed," Dr. Lindstrom allowed her a thin smile. "You or them."

Olivia smiled a little at the comment – slightly embarrassed. But he was right. For all the times she'd had to work a crime scene, deal with Forensics, go over to the M.E.'s office and read final reports – you'd think the little scientific activities they had the kids doing in the 1-hour Spy Training upgrade at Spyscape Museum would've been a little lackluster.

But Olivia had definitely gotten into it – learning to collect and process the evidence and all the chemistry and physics and biology involved. Though, her and Brian had mostly hung back, letting the kids work through solving their case. They'd really only serving as readers when both Benji and Emmy were tripping up on the text in the 'top secret' files they'd been handed. But that hadn't stopped Olivia from absorbing and processing the entire process. And both her and Brian had gotten a kick out of their kids becoming little detectives – even if this was being labeled as a spy science class. Considering their careers usually played second-fiddle to the competition presented by firefighters, marine biologists, astronauts, scientists, comic book artists and super heroes – it was nice to see Benji and Emmy so into it. And nice to hear "Do you do this at crime scenes, Mommy?" and Benji telling his sister over and over again, "Ducky, I told you, Daddy did undercover. That's basically a spy." They were funny. They were the lights of her life in so many ways.

Benji and Emmy had done really well working together to break the code and solve the diamond heist they'd been tasked with solving. Though, they'd given their kids a whole lot of exposure to science and STEM activities – at the library and camps and museum programming like this. And at home. And they'd worked really hard to establish a co-operative and patient relationship between their children. That as much as they fought and bickered – they knew they were a team and could count on each other and work together to an end goal.

Making molds of shoeprints and tire tracks. Dusting for and taking fingerprints. Gathering hair and fiber samples and then processing DNA. Narrowing down the suspect pool. Cracking secret codes. Testing liquids and powders. Analyzing soil samples. Spotting counterfeit currency. Mixing invisible ink. Test tubes and magnifying glasses and cipher wheels and decode glasses and ph strips and graduated cylinders and using blacklights and UV lights and baking soda and citric acid chemistry concepts. Olivia had no qualms about the upgrade fee they'd paid to include this experience for their kids. This was the kind of thing they just ate up.

There'd really only been about two steps in the entire crime solving endeavor that either her or Brian had needed to step in and help explain and clarify the instructions or scientific procedure. But one of them had been dealing with the litmus test – and Brian had caught photographic evidence of their surprised faces as the chemical reaction took place and they'd realized the likely – and unsuspected – culprit of the crime.

Normally, Olivia wouldn't have shown Lindstrom the collection of photos of her family she had accessible on her phone. But when she'd gone into her purse to pull out some paperwork he'd requested from the social work and support group programming she was cautiously wading into at the Children's Hospital, one of the invisible ink pens they'd gotten to keep from the Spy Training had tumbled out. Her and Benji had been leaving secret messages for each other in their work and school bags that week – revealing them with the light on the pen.

Lindstrom had reached out like she was going to offer him the pen to sign the document on the spot after he looked it over. And she'd explained that the pen wouldn't work for the medical forms. But she'd apparently been overly excited about the whole Spyscape experience still – and in the midst of trying to explain some of the interactive, immersive exhibits, she'd found herself opening the photostream on her phone and handing it to him.

She'd been so … wrapped up in reliving, trying to capture a good day for him, after her last session, which she was sure had made her family life, parenting, and the status of her little boy sound like a bit of a train wreck. Even more so than in her usual sessions with him.

But she had enjoyed the day. She was still clinging onto that day on the weekend. A good day. A happy day.

Benji was having a good day that Saturday outing. And lately it felt like those were few and far between in managing his pain and fatigue and the influx in his exposure to germs at school and changing temperatures of the season.

The doctors had already told them they were going to have to be vigilant that cold and flu season – that there was a likelihood that Benji would have a cough and respiratory challenges for most of the coming months as they worked through the autumn and winter months. That there was also a likelihood that those colds and flus his weakened immune system would enviably be compromised by would develop into pneumonia at some point. That he was probably going to have to be on antibiotics and steroids at some point. That they might have some hospital visits for oxygen or fluids or monitoring and managing a fever. And that was all on top of what they'd already been told to expect in his managing the lupus medications and treatments – and the just as evitable flares and the unpredictable symptoms.

So knowing they were looking down a bit of a barrel – knowing how unpredictable their son's stamina and energy and pain levels could be as it was – she was making the most of the day. They all were.

Benji was a smiling and happy little boy. He'd fallen asleep with them on the couch while they were letting the kids get in their Friday night TV time. He'd barely opened his eyes for them to stumble up the stairs and get tucked into bed. And he'd slept through the night and into the morning. Their son was no longer the early riser in their family – and that Saturday morning it'd actually reached the point that Olivia had gone up to check on him and nudge him awake. He'd grumbled at her a bit and she thought they might be in for another off Saturday with Benji but by the time he'd come downstairs for Daddy's Big Breakfast, he was their Benji. Smiley and happy and chatty.

They'd quickly decided to take advantage of that. Benji's birthday weekend had been such a write-off. Between the weather and how achey Benji was – he'd just been grumpy, angry and sad. Getting him out of bed and off the couch – and to even smile – had been a challenge. He hadn't been feeling well at all. So they hadn't attempted much of anything. But while he was stuffing his face with strawberry pancakes that Saturday morning, they'd decided to try again. To take a redo. To take advantage of a day that looked like he was getting to go to be himself. And so they'd offered him the choice of doing Governor's Island with his begged for pricey activities – ziplining, wall climbing, maze runs and mini putt - or going to the Spyscape Museum he'd been asking about for months. One or the other. That was the deal. And it'd really only taken him a moment to decide – Spyscape. And the experience – that morning – had been so unique and memorable, Olivia was so glad he'd picked it. She was so sure that it might be a day they'd be clinging onto for a while. That she'd look back on when they enviably hit on the weekends and nights and days where Benji was in a flare or rundown or just plain sick.

And maybe she'd wanted to showcase that – for Lindstrom to see it too – subliminally, when she'd handed him the phone. Without thinking.

But the reality was she'd never done that before. And she'd sat there realizing that. That she'd been seeing him on and off for nearly six years and now she'd just handed him another window into her life. She'd handed him a new window into who her family was. And despite the casualness of the conversation he was having with her, she'd also felt the shift in the session. She knew he'd be looking at – and picking up – on different things in the photos than just a fun day out with her family. That he'd be collecting stock for later sessions – taking notes after she left – for different areas to pursue based on things he'd seen or read into the pictures she had of herself … her husband, her kids.

"I think what amazes me the most is how the two of them take to it," she offered. "I feel like I'm having to revisit a high school science class that I must've slept through watching how quickly they grasp it. Science – especially chemistry – it's like magic to them."

He gave her another little smile at that. "May I?" he asked, tilting the phone toward her in a silent request to flip through.

She paused – rubbing her eyebrow, even though she knew he'd note that too, her discomfort. But she nodded. "Sure."

He flipped and she heard a video start. The laser dodge room. She knew Benji and Emmy were near bouncing in front of her.

"Mom, Mom," she heard Benji's voice. "Are you filming?"

"I'm filming, Benj," she agreed.

"OK. I'm gonna go in now," he said.

"Jah. We goin' in!" Emmy said.

"We're gonna get like at least a hundred this time!" Benji said. And she knew he was bouncing even harder – just like he did before going on court.

"Yea?" Olivia put back to them and then she knew she'd turned the camera towards Brian who was standing closer to the monitoring screen watching the family ahead of them wildly smack the buttons inside with no regard for the lasers or the lost time they were being penalized with every time they ran into one. Despite their frantic efforts – they definitely weren't racking up the points. Though, there was definitely a learning curve. Benji and Emmy had scored 76 their first time through. It'd immediately prompted them coming back around to try the course again in an attempt to better their score. "You think maybe Daddy should go in this time to help you reach some of the high buttons? Bri?"

And she'd known Brian had turned and looked at her – and she'd known that was likely the first time Lindstrom had seen Brian. When she knew that he'd pulled a goofy face at the camera when he'd spotted she was filming and then had extended his arm into an easy jump shot. And she saw Lindstrom allow the movement a small smile.

"So, got this," Brian said and had reached and massaged at Benji's shoulders like they really were getting ready to enter the game of their lives. "High, low," he'd said pointing off at Emmy. "Medium," he'd massaged Benji a bit more and then nodded at Olivia, "Slow."

"Yea, Mom," Benji urged at her again. "You've gotta go slow. Cuz you can't film and walk into a laser."

"I promise I won't walk into a laser," she muttered at them in a way that Olivia knew she'd rolled her eyes and she knew Lindstrom could likely hear it too.

"Jah, cuz then you have laser burn," Emmy said and then dropped down into a ready army crawl on the dirty floors before the door had even opened for them to enter the room.

"Emily," Olivia sighed.

"You gotta go like dis, Mommy," and she'd scurried forward – almost head first into the door – far faster than Olivia could ever imagine going.

"That's lovely ..." she muttered.

And Brian had chortled and cast her – the camera – a look that contained all kinds of little unspoken innuendo.

Olivia remembered she'd had a quip on the tip of her tongue but the door had buzzed to let them enter and they'd quickly darted in. The rest of the video was her three people slapping at walls and crawling around floors and jumping over laser beams and screeching at Daddy about his head hitting laser beams and her kids rolling around the walls in full-body smacks in the last 10 seconds trying to press as many buttons as possible – Olivia doing her part with the lasers off for those final moments, smacking everything within reach. And then Benji and Emmy staring up at the score screen and declaring, "96! We hafta do it again!"

"Uh-oh," Lindstrom said and gave her a thin smile. "Did you manage to reach 100?"

And she did roll her eyes a little that time. "We managed to reach 114 – when I had two hands to use but wasn't able to document the evidence."

Maybe she should've. Maybe she'd want to remember – and hold onto – that too.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Next chapter will be a continuation. More chatty about the day/weekend and status of Benji, Jack situation and how Olivia feels as a parent and wife in it all.**


	9. All Directions

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

"I don't think we were particularly stealthy spies, though," Olivia said.

"Oh, was that the purpose of that activity?" Lindstrom provided her.

She shrugged. "I actually think it was an agility test," she said. "But I'm not sure we did particularly well there either."

"I think Emily might've," Lindstrom offered of Emily's maneuver that had shown her crawling around on the ground for the majority of the video. "And I'm sure you all got points for style."

Olivia smiled a bit at that. "I think we lost some after we left the museum and Emily was still tracking around Manhattan showing off the boot marks from all the spies that went before us through that agility maze."

He offered her a smile. "Speaking of style," he commented. "It's quite the sweater Benjamin has on."

Olivia exhaled a bit – gauging what that note might mean he was clocking. But she allowed a nod, again rubbing at her eyebrow.

"He used his vacation money to get that on our trip," she provided of the Rocket Scientist hoodie splashed with a NASA patch proudly displayed on the sleeve.

"A new career aspiration?" Lindstrom offered again. She could feel him starting to nudge along the conversation in other areas.

Olivia shrugged a little. "Maybe," she said.

The reality was that she was still learning how to navigate Benji's hopes and dreams. To let him dream big without trampling all over the bright eyes of a little boy. Buts she was more and more becoming aware that as he started to near his teenaged years, she was going to have to redirect him a bit. It didn't matter how much he still loved firetrucks or thought he might want to be a cop (especially an undercover detective, like Daddy, since it's pretty much a spy) or hoped that maybe he'd still be good enough at hockey or BMXing that he could be a pro or that maybe being an astronaut was a really good idea (since you got to do science and fly really awesome vehicles and could do all kind of skating and BMX tricks in Zero-G). It was becoming abundantly clear that they couldn't preach the 'you can do anything you put your mind to', 'if you put in the work, you can make it happen'. That was wasn't going to be realistic with his health. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

They were slowly trying to help nudge him into other areas by carefully observing his skills and talents and interests. To tap into art and science. That maybe a lab tech or a Forensics unit made more sense. Maybe a meteorologist or an engineer or a graphic designer or auto mechanic. That maybe a rocket science made more since than an astronaut.

But she hadn't wanted to wade into that with Lindstrom this session. She knew what he'd say – that health science and medical research was constantly changing and advancing and they really didn't know what the future held for Benji or what disease treatment options might be available. That she had to remain positive and hopeful and optimistic. That Benji still had a life to live and a whole life ahead of him.

"In the very least he felt it was essential clothing for starting at his Math and Science middle school," was what she did say. "And I've hardly been able to peel it off him to even get it into the wash this month."

It earned another small smile out of him – but she'd seen him clock her facial reactions to his comment before she provided her deflection, just as much as she was watching him now. He gave her a moment of space, looking back to the phone again and flipping through.

"You hadn't mentioned you'd gotten to the Space Center," he tried to provide casually.

Olivia nodded. "It was a last-minute decision," she said. "One of the rocket launches got moved to a day we were down there. Don knew someone who knew someone and was able to get us all tickets to go watch."

"Wow," he said and caught her eyes again. "That must've been quite the experience."

"It was," she agreed and touched at her chest. "You just feel the power of it. It's incredible. I think the whole day blew their little minds a bit."

"You seem very dedicated to providing them with opportunities to learn new things and have interesting experiences," he said.

She shrugged a bit. "After four days at Universal, I think we needed something that wasn't make-believe to balance out the trip."

He allowed her a thin smile. "But you do seem to make the most of your time with them while you're here at home too," he offered and gestured at the phone – like their day at the museum proved the point.

But Olivia only shrugged a bit more. "We try to get them out to a museum maybe once or twice a month. It's not Brian's favorite family activity."

Lindstrom gave her a small explanation. "What's his preference?"

Olivia made a little amused sound and stared at her feet for a moment. Brian's preference was generally to stay in unless it involved a meal or sports viewing. But she only shrugged as she looked back at Lindstrom. "Going to the park and just watching them play is more his speed."

"Routine," Lindstrom said.

And she shrugged a little again. "I think years on the job does that. Stability, predictability."

"Well, children thrive in that too," Lindstrom offered. "Though, it does look like you broke everyone out of their routines a bit on the weekend."

And again, Olivia tried to brush it off. "His birthday weekend was such a write-off. He was … pretty much bedridden. So, it was a redo. It more just illustrates how … absolutely and infuriatingly unpredictable the lupus symptoms can be."

"But you made the most of it," Lindstrom said. "You seized the day."

"We tried," she said.

He handed the phone back to her. "Photographically, Olivia, it looks like you had a lovely day."

She glanced at the phone and smiled a little at where he'd stopped. It was a group shot of her family – Brian's longer arm managing to get them all in – on the ferry they'd taken back across the river, because the kids loved to go on the ferries every chance they got, even if it wasn't the most direct route to getting them home.

"Not what you expected?" she mumbled.

"Now, that's an interesting question, Olivia," he said and she pulled her eyes away from her phone, returning it too her pocket. "Do you feel that I should be worried about where you are in your ability to stay in the moment and enjoy the day-to-day?"

She shook her head and rubbed at her eyebrow again as she sat back in the chair a bit. "I meant more it's the first time you'd seen them. The kids. Brian. Sometimes it feels like … they aren't what people expect."

"Mmm …," Lindstrom allowed. "And what do you mean by that?"

She shrugged a little. "I guess … with Brian, people who are meeting him for the first time, who don't know him, often find him a little rough around the edges."

"And that bothers you?"

She exhaled and shook her head. "Not so much anymore. I had periods where I felt like I was having to explain myself – or him … my choice of him. He's … a different kind of person – man – than I'd dated before."

"And he's the one you've chosen to settle down with, raise a family with," Lindstrom said.

She shrugged. "And now I hear so often – again, with people who don't know us very well – that Benji looks so much like Brian. Emmy shares some physical traits with me. We get that a lot. Just … people not realizing the kids are adopted."

"And that bothers you?" Lindstrom put to her again.

She allowed a quiet noise at that and again looked at the ground for a moment. "It didn't before. I think … I liked that we passed as a family."

"You are a family," Lindstrom prodded gently.

She gave him a thin smile. "That they passed as our biological children. I guess – maybe – I still had … or have … some regret about not having a biological child of my own. And those moments filled some sort of hole. But lately …" she shook her head a bit and tried to figure out how to phrase this. "Benji very much is aware he's adopted. He has memories of his mother. He remembers coming home. He remembers when Brian was just 'Brian'. We've talked lots about all families being made up differently and what it means to be a family. But he's become really obsessive on the 'why' of why Brian and I aren't his biological parents. The 'why' he isn't our biological baby. The is that 'why' he has lupus. Would he not have it if he was ours. They 'why' isn't he ours when everyone tells him he looks so much like his Daddy. It's just … it's added this different layer and this whole different kind of regret to him not biologically being ours."

"Olivia," Lindstrom put gently, "I'm sure you know – even if Benji was biologically your child, it's possible he would have been diagnosed with lupus."

"Possibly," she allowed. "Maybe. It's just more 'whys'. The doctors don't seem to know the 'whys' of the disease. And that makes it even harder for us to answer them for Benji. And I'd be lying if I didn't say I've placed blame on his mother and the boys' uncle. Her drug usage. The living situation. The likelihood it impacted his immune system. The likelihood his little body had to fight off infections. That he was likely compromised."

"And that is circumstance – not biology as a trigger," Lindstrom said. "And, sadly, many children who are adopted when they are older come from circumstances that are going to follow them and have some implications on them for the rest of their lives."

She sighed and stared off at his book shelves.

"I did notice that Jack wasn't in the photos from this weekend," he said.

Olivia shook her head and slowly brought her eyes back to him. "I asked him not to participate."

"Would you like to talk about that?"

Olivia rested her cheek against her bent arm along the back of the seat. "I try not to mention Jack here."

"I understand," Lindstrom allowed. "But, he is a part of your life. And, he is no longer a patient."

She exhaled and looked off at his bookshelves again. "He showed up on Friday night – and stirred things up. And I just … didn't feel like dealing with him. I asked him to leave. I just don't have the patience for it – him – right now. He's picking at Brian a lot lately. He's setting Benji off. And I … didn't want to play referee. I'm just not feeling like I'm on his side right now. Or can be. I feel … guilty, badly about that. But I don't. Benji, Emily, Brian. They're my focus. They need to be. But I feel guilty about that too."

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Well this didn't write the way I wanted at all. But there it is.**


	10. Outline

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

"So is apple picking actually a thing?" Amanda asked Olivia as they trudged toward the elevator up to the bullpen. Olivia definitely got the sense they were both running on fumes that morning. Amanda definitely didn't seem to have as much pep in her step – the beeline – that she usually seemed to take in commanding the precinct.

Olivia gave her a look, as she clutched the files she'd taken home with her the night before and had hardly had the chance to look at, against her chest. "Ah, if you mean apple trees exist and you can pick the fruit from them? Yes," Olivia provided her.

Amanda allowed her a half-smile of mild annoyance at that comment. "But is it a 'thing'? Carisi won't shut up about it – like I'm completely denying the girls some childhood milestone by not taking them apple picking."

Olivia made a small, amused sound. "Ah. Well, yes, I suppose it's that kind of 'thing' too."

"This is New York City – where the hell do you go to pick apples?"

"You realize that despite currently living on a little island, Amanda, there is a whole world just across either river," Olivia put to her. "One with apple orchards."

"And, of course, you take Benji and Emmy?" Amanda pressed at her and then pushed at the button at the elevator. Olivia gave her a bit of a look at that. She really wasn't in the mood for the comparison, competitive parenting game or who's approach to child-rearing was working out better. As far as she was concerned anymore – they were both grown woman, making their own mistakes and the best choices they felt they could in just trying to navigate the impossible mission of getting their children to adulthood in something resembling one piece. "Sorry, these wholesome family-friendly activities are little outside my realm of experience. Going out to an orchard wasn't exactly high on the list of my family priorities growing up."

"Not even peaches," Olivia offered in mild jest as the elevator dinged open.

"More like the race track, "Amanda muttered again and looked at her as the elevator started up to the bullpen's floor. "And what do you even do with the apples collected on this big milestone?"

Olivia gave her a look. "Eat them? Bake them? Make some good old fashion apple pie …"

Amanda shook her head. "He better not be expecting me to be doing any baking."

Olivia allowed another amused sound to purse out of her lips. "I get the strong impression Carisi's mother would take care of that aspect of the outing for you."

"Oh, while now you're making all this nagging from him sound spectacularly better," Amanda grumbled.

The doors opened. "You could try telling him you have other weekend plans."

"Or I could just tell him me and the girls are already going apple picking with y'all," Amanda suggested.

Olivia laughed – because that was laughable. Amanda and Brian spending any amount of time in close to proximity to each other? Wouldn't that be an autumn treat. She could feel the cold front setting in already.

"I'm sure that would be a good time for everyone," Olivia said sarcastically.

"Trust me, spending an afternoon with you and yours is about a hundred times better than any activity Carisi decides to impose as a Must-Do for bonding with the girls. The level of tacky extremes cannot be overstated here, Liv."

"Your partner is Staten Island Italian …" she offered.

Amanda rolled her eyes. "And, what? Brooklyn Irish is more sophisticated?"

Olivia offered her a smile. "I'm not sure those two demographics like to be compared. And, we've actually already done our apple-picking outing."

"Of course," Amanda rolled her eyes. "And baked your apple pies too?"

"Oh, we're an apple crisp family," Olivia put back to her.

It got another eye roll. That was fine. Her family's eyes rolled about to the back of their heads in anticipation when apple season – and more specifically apple crisp season – rolled around. It was one baked good she seemed to not be able to screw up – much to the sojourn of Brian's mother. For approximately six weeks per year, her baking exceeded that of any sweet treat Janet would bring over. It was the Sunday dessert request from September through the end of October – with it being a fight to keep any leftovers in the house. Even the switch to gluten-free and low-sugar options hadn't resulted in a complete disaster. And that said something – because she wasn't going to talk (at work) about the attempt to make some apple cinnamon muffins for breakfast and after-school snacks. The ones that literally turned out as flat and hard as hockey pucks.

LITERALLY – to the point that Brian and Benji had used them as much in the back lot with their street hockey sticks and nets before dumping them into one of the garden boxes as compost. Only now they were turning into a science experiment – because they sure weren't decomposing and even the birds and insects seemed completely uninterested.

Benji and Emmy on the other hand were fascinated. They checked them every day and gave her an update on their non-rotting, petrified status. John had been over and observed them too – providing them with a rather lengthy commentary on agribusiness, the state of food in America and the conspiracies around wheat, dairy, sugar and all the big brand name alternatives to those products. Basically – just now no matter what they were all going to die, which Olivia thought was pretty inevitable no matter what they ate. But, he'd encouraged the kids to chart the 'pending biological and environmental disaster.' And, Benji and Emmy had, of course, taken their Unkie Munchie's urgent sarcasm as a challenge to show their scientist chops. So they now had a chart in their homework nook noting their observations on the significant lack of decomposition.

Olivia was sure that Janet was loving that the out-of-the-box baking attempt had become a science experiment. Grandma needed assurances that Mommy's baking would never compare to the Monkey Bread she brought over for her 'monkeys' – because Janet might just feel like she lost all direction in the family dynamic if she wasn't getting to provide baked goods, crochet and babysitting to the family. Olivia was actually quite sure Amanda would love hearing that story too – but she'd never hear the end of it if it spread beyond their home life. So she kept her mouth zipped.

"You might be in luck," Olivia said instead, "because I'm pretty sure you'll be hard pressed to find an orchard with many apples left on the trees at this point. So he might have to settle on a pumpkin patch instead."

Amanda gaped at her. "OK. That's a thing? Because that sounds way worse."

"Oh, it's way worse," Olivia agreed. "But Brian can definitely direct him to every spook-tactular farm-like experience within a 50 mile radius."

"And then you avoid them all, right?" Amanda muttered.

"I wish," she said. "Haunted hayrides and pumpkin catapults—"

"You're kidding me, right?" Amanda gapped.

"Oh, I am not. And they are the highlight of our fall itineraries. It is a 'thing'."

"Of course," Amanda grumbled some more.

"But, sadly for you and your Carisi situation, we usually save going to pick our Jack-o-Lanterns until closer to the end of the month," Olivia said but then stalled a bit, as they came into the bullpen and she saw another frightful Jack loitering near her office door.

Jack gave her an apologetic look – and her and Amanda both shared a look of their own. Amanda veering off toward her desk while Olivia made her way to her door, fishing out her keys.

"Hey …," Jack offered as she got there.

"You're going to be late to work," she put to him flatly.

He slumped against the door jam as she fumbled to get the door open – not offering to take the files for her or to take the keys and do it himself.

"Not that late …," he said.

"Mmm …," Olivia offered as she got the door unlocked and pushed it open with her foot. "That's always the attitude you want in an employee not even six months onto the job."

"Mom …," he sighed at her.

She went to her desk and off-loaded her files and then returned to her coat stand to remove her jacket.

"You haven't been answering my calls," Jack said – still leaning in the doorway.

"No, I haven't," she agreed. "Because you've been calling during the workday – and this is not appropriate workday conversation. And it is definitely not appropriate workplace conversation."

"Well, what am I supposed to do," Jack pressed at her, "when you aren't answering my calls or texts."

"Jack," she pushed back firmly. "I am answering your calls and texts. In the evening – after I get home and after I get through our evening routines and priorities with the kids and after they are in bed. You aren't picking up in those hours – that make much more sense to have this personal, private talk."

He sighed and hung his head, staring at his feet and scuffing at his shoes. Still the teenaged boy despite charging toward his twenty-sixth birthday.

"Is Brian still taking you out to dinner this week?" he whispered.

Olivia moved back to her desk, rubbing at her eyebrow and trying to get organized for the day. She really didn't want to be doing this here – now. Beyond it being wildly inappropriate – and not the kind of dirty family laundry she need displayed in her bullpen – she just didn't need the distraction. Having this kind of charged conversation with preoccupy part of her mind – and being – for most of the day. It'd put her off her game and affect her attitude, emotions and tone with everyone else she came in contact with no matter how much she tried to keep it in its place and compartmentalize it. She had enough of her home life – and her family, marriage, and children – worries seeping into how she performed her job lately. There were enough distractions. She tried to use work as a way to find a few hours to get out of her own head – to deal with something else. To work on other people's pressing issues. To try to help – and fix – something she could actually help and fix (sometimes). Her home life just felt like she was desperately trying to keep everyone's heads above water most days. And she kept getting pulled down and taking big gulping mouthfuls of water pretty regularly. She didn't need Jack pouring one of those mouthfuls down her throat.

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe."

"Well, if you aren't going out can I come over on your birthday?"

She cast him a look. "If we aren't going out, Jack, it's because Benji's tired – we're tired – and, so, no, I'd prefer you didn't come over, because I'd prefer we just have a quiet night."

His head rested against the frame at that and he stared at her. "What about the weekend? Brian said I could come."

She rubbed at her eyebrow again and shrugged, pulling out her chair and sitting down. "You'll have to take that up with him."

"Yea, well, it's your birthday thing. So if you don't want me to come …?"

Olivia exhaled and found his eyes. "Jack, you're too grown up to be playing these games with him. And, I'm really not going to play these games with you here."

He still just looked at her. He didn't say anything, so Olivia tried starting in on getting her computer fired up and files opened and running down the list of what she needed – and needed everyone else to – get done that day. She hoped he'd take the hint – and drop it – and leave.

"I'm sorry I made fun of Jamin's birthday cake," he said.

Olivia rolled her eyes and found his. "That's not what this is about."

"OK, then I'm sorry that – whatever – I got Jamin all pissy the other weekend. But it was like more than a week ago. C'mon. You're all giving me the cold shoulder. It wasn't that big of deal."

Olivia glared at him. "Close the door," she put to him firmly. He stared right back – no moving. "Come inside and close the door," she pressed even more directly.

He sighed – like he realized he'd pushed it too far. And regretted that he had. But he did step inside and slow pressed the door shut behind him. Olivia could see Amanda carefully watching from her desk.

"Mom—"

But she cut him off. "Listen," she pressed hard.

He stared at her. And then he crossed his arms – trying to look bigger and tougher than he was. And she just drilled her eyes right back at him.

"Jack," she stayed firm. "I know Benji being sick scares you. I know starting your first job isn't easy. I know you are in a challenging relationship. But, you are an adult – and I am not doing this any more."

"Doing what anymore?" he spat back at her.

She sat back in her chair and shook her head at him. "You aren't going to come home and make little jabs at Brian. He is my husband and my best friend. He is Benji and Emily's father. He is loved in our family – and he's earned it. And, whatever you think or feel about him in a given moment, Jack – he has been a good friend and support to you too.

"You aren't going to tease Benji about his limitations right now. There's not going to be little comments about his being tired or in pain. Not about hockey or basketball or comic books or his art. There's not going to be any more comments about what we eat – especially when we're trying to do something special for the kids and they're so excited. You aren't just teasing them, Jack. You're bursting their bubbles – and you're bursting mine and Brian's.

"And you might not care, Jack – but Brian and I, we're really struggling with all this too. With our child – being sick, hurting and there only being so much we can do to help him or comfort him. Not being able to fix it for him.

"There's not going to be the 'eww, gross' or innuendo comments about Brian and mine's relationship. Benji and Emily know we have sex. I don't need my six-year-old telling me that my husband puts his penis in my vagina and I really – really - don't need her telling her entire class that either. But, their openness and willingness to verbalize that, Jack, just means they're a whole lot more comfortable with sex and sexuality than you. That's telling about you – and your issues. Not about the ways we talk about love, sexuality, biology or family with our children.

"And, you giving all these little jabs about it – and that very healthy part of our relationship – it annoys me and Brian. It's incredibly immature. But, you are confusing Benji. You are trying really hard to make it seem abnormal or uncomfortable or 'gross' for him. And it's not. He has parents who love each other and who love him – even if we didn't 'make' him. And, we can't – I can't – continue with the broken record player about the biology and genetics of making babies and lupus - and why we aren't his biological parents and if he'd be sick if we were and if this is your sister's fault. It is driving holes into my heart, Jack. And I'm done.

"And, if you can't – or won't – fix some of these habits we've let go on with you far, far too long then you're done too, Jack. You're right – the answer will be 'no' when it comes to if you're wanted there for family activities. Because if you're only going to make everyone … uncomfortable and upset … and leave an emotional minefield for us to wade through – all of us, Jack, not just Benji – no, Jack. We don't want you there if that's the way it's going to continue to be."

He just kept staring at her. His face lax and eyes sad. "It's not fair," he finally said.

Olivia gave her head a little shake and a little shrug. "Life's not fair, Jack," she said. "You've had more than enough opportunity to learn that."

"And that's it," Jack said. "Life's not fair. Suck it up."

"Yes, Jack. You're twenty-five. It's time to grow up."

"Yea. I just have to what? Charge right on into adulthood?"

"You're twenty-five," she stressed at him again. "Jack, we easily – we should've – had these conversations at eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one. I have supported you – loved you, given you a safety net – for seven years. Enough."

"Right," he muttered. "My shit is just bullshit. And Jamin and Ducky? Their shit is as sweet as flowers, right?"

Olivia huffed out the absurdity of it. "Benji and Emmy are children, Jack."

"And they get a childhood," he muttered again. "A fucking house and fancy schools and vacations. Parents."

She cocked her head at him. "Jack, you know their situations – and childhoods – are not the same as yours. And don't diminish the circumstances or challenges either of them had – or will be carrying with them the rest of their lives. Brian and I are doing the best we can to help guide them into people we'd like to be around and to see contributing to our society as twenty, twenty-five, thirty-year-old adults."

"Right, so not people like me," he said. "Because my dad – my Fake Dad – didn't give me a childhood. But your Fake Kids, they get one. But not me. Because I'm not even really your fake kid, right?"

Olivia exhaled and stared down at her desk composing herself for a long beat. "Jack, your father – the man who raised you and loved you – did the best he could. You had a childhood. You had to grow up too soon – and I understand that's deeply affected you. But, your childhood – and your relationship with it - is not something I can fix for you. The best I can do – what I have been trying to do – is to make sure you're still a part of a family. And, that maybe you could relive some of those childhood experiences – ones you had and ones you missed out on - through Benji and Emily."

"Only I'm not welcome over," he said. "I just … whatever … stress everyone out and piss everyone off."

"Lately, yes," she agreed, staring at him purposefully. "But that's your M.O., Jack. When you're hurting – you want all of us to hurt. I can't – I won't – tolerate that right now. We're all hurting. We're all scared. Enough."

He just glared at her – but she could see his eyes were glassy and he was fidgeting.

"Renee mustn't approve of this behavior we're seeing out of you lately," she said.

He shook his head. "She's not talking to me really right now either."

"Ahh …," Olivia allowed.

"You don't need to do some kind of told-you-so," Jack muttered.

She allowed a little shrug and sat back again at her desk. "You do this too, Jack," she said. "After each relationship – after you broke up with Christina-"

"I said don't," he cut her off more forcibly. He really caught her eyes that time and clutched even more harshly at his bicep. "And me and Renee aren't broken up. She's just …"

She just stared at him. Kept his eyes. But she didn't press it. She wished he'd talk to her more about this, but he didn't. Actually, maybe she really wished … he hadn't gotten involved with Renee. She hated saying that – thinking that – but she wasn't sure either of them were good for each other with where either of them were in their lives, their personalities and maturity levels. And their trauma and abilities to handle and navigate that when it came to a significant other. It all just … it felt so much more complicated than she thought Jack was capable of. And, another part of her, just also wouldn't wish Jack's problems, trauma and baggage onto Renee. Olivia wouldn't say she deserved better – but she certainly didn't need the extra load to carry or to find herself feeling responsible for managing Jack's issues.

"Mom, please. Just let me come home. For your birthday. For the weekend. Let me take the garden unit …"

She shook her head slowly. "No, Jack," she said a little more gently.

He made a little sound and looked down at the ground. But she'd seen the flicker in his eyes. He was struggling to hold it together. She knew it.

"I'll pay the money you want," he said. "I'll figure it out."

"No, Jack," she said again. "Brian and I don't want a tenant down there right now – that's why we don't have one. And when we get one, it's likely going to be a woman, Jack."

"What if Renee moves in with me …," he offered meekly.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You're going to move in together when right now you aren't even communicating with each other? That doesn't sound very smart, Jack."

He cast her a hurt look. "I'll be able to help more – if I'm there. I'll help more."

"I'd like that," she said. "You helping more – not you living in the lower unit, Jack. But, first you need to really stop – calm down – and think about what, as an adult man, you want your relationship to be with this family to be. With the people in it – with me, with Benji, with Emily, with Brian. I know I don't want that relationship to be one of a tenant, helper or babysitter, Jack. So you're really going to need to work on some of the things I outlined before. And, I'm going to need you to educate yourself on lupus - to at least try to understand what Benji is going through. The 'cool big brother-uncle' thing isn't working anymore. He's his own person with his own personality and interests and baggage, Jack. You need to learn to be an adult in his life. And an adult in how you interact with me and Brian too – about all of this. We don't like just seeing the man when you bring a girl over. We aren't really getting to see you then either."

Olivia saw his nostrils flare a bit but he kept staring at the floor.

"And, Jack, part of your problem is Renee isn't a girl – she's very much a woman. Growing up is going to help you there too."

It got a small, fleeting glance but all that got muttered was, "So that's still a no on your birthday? And the weekend?"

Olivia sighed hard at that and stared at him. That was the response of a child again. But she didn't need to press it further with him. There was a knock on the door and Amanda pushed it open slowly, nudging Jack out of the way. He startled a bit and rubbed his sleeve against his eyes before crossing his arms tight again.

"Liv, Sheena Larouso is here. Tim's mom …," she said, giving Jack a bit of a glance and he pressed at his eyes again.

Olivia nodded and rose from her desk, giving Jack a little nod toward the door. "Go to work," she ordered evenly. He stared at her with a slow inhale and exhale. But she went to the door and held it more open for him, gesturing with her arm that time. "You can call me tonight," she added.

He sighed at her heavily but nudged around Amanda and out the door, staring at his feet, beyond giving Sheena Larouso a quiet glance as he trudged toward the elevator. Sheena gave him a nervous look – having likely caught his watery eyes and defeated body language. Not exactly the precedent Olivia wanted to set for people waiting to come into her office. And Sheena's vaguely terrified eyes communicated just as much as she looked to her; she clearly was second-guessing her decision to come in.

"Mrs. Larouso," Olivia greeted and held open the door more as Amanda took leave. "I'm so glad you came in …"

The woman nudged inside. But she looked like she was a caged mouse now searching for an escape route. Instead, though, she seemed to settle on the couch Olivia gestured at. She clutched her purse to her chest.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," Sheena almost whispered.

Olivia shook her head, as she took a seat down from her. "Please, no," Olivia said. "That was my son. He knows to expect interruptions when he drops in unannounced."

Sheena nodded but was staring off across her desk and to the photo frames along the tops of the bookshelves and filing cabinets back there. Olivia had definitely gone through periods where she put the photos away – or at least turned them to be out of the sight lines of visitors to her office. But lately she'd been trying to more proudly display her family – what she'd worked for, for herself. Not for the victims or the city or justice – for her. And she had pride in that achievement – just as she did in their achievements. The stability they brought with their manic instability.

"You have children …," Sheena mumbled again.

Olivia rubbed her eyebrow. "Yes," she allowed. "Three."

"Boys?" Sheena asked, giving her this weak look of hopeful hopelessness, like she might just have some kind of answers that was going to fix this for her – her son, her family – and make it alright.

"Two boys," she nodded. "And a little girl."

Sheena allowed a small smile at that. "How old …?"

"Ah …," Olivia let slip out.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked that …," Sheena sputtered a bit and clutched her bag a bit tighter, pulling her eyes away from the photo frames she'd been taken in from that distance.

"It's OK," Olivia allowed. "Jack, he's grown," she said and gestured slightly at the door her oldest had exited. "My other two are eleven and six."

Sheena looked at her – took her in. "So … so, you know …" she pressed out slowly and weakly, her eyes glassing even more than Jack's had.

Olivia allowed a little nod and placed her hand over top the woman's. It was shaking.

"I know Timothy has been through so much," she said. "And I know he can held dozens of other boys if you let him talk to us; testify in court."

Sheena let out a shaky breath and went back to staring at the photos – and whatever she was reading into the smiling pictures and reminds that Olivia had chosen to display. The image of her family that she brought into work.

And she steadied herself to try to convince this woman how much better her son would feel after facing his predator. The kind of closure going to court would bring him and her family – and countless other families. The justice they might get. And how Timothy would be OK – with years of therapy and services – help – that she was going to help her and her son access.

But more and more that just felt like empty promises – if not outright lies. Ones being perpetuated by the smiling faces in those photo frames, when the reality was that Olivia knew her family – as a whole and individually – were a clear indication that none of that was true. That the scars persisted and the trauma lurked. That putting down the baggage of a childhood that contained abuse and neglect wasn't something that every seemed to happen – no matter how much you purposefully worked on it. And that working through the trauma of sexual assault, rape and molestation just took it to an inhumane level. You don't deal. It doesn't get better. You just learn to function within that normal. To smile for the photographs while behind closed doors you were just as teary as Sheena was right now on that couch.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Might bump around non-consecutively to write some 'fun' scenes/chapters.**

**Have a Jack/Alex chapter planned. Not sure if it will be Jack or Alex POV. Though, might do a Jack/Cragen chapter instead using a similar concept. Have a Jack/Renee chapter planned that will likely be Jack POV. Have a Liv/Alex chapter planned that will likely be a Liv POV. Have some thoughts on Liv/Brian moments. Undecided on if I'm going to do an moments from Liv's birthday. Thought maybe Brian and the kids, Brian supervising them making presents for Liv might be fun.**

**But next chapter might be back in Best Laid Plans to just do something a bit lighter.**


	11. A Mother's Love

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

"You've got me thinking fifty-one is a much worse milestone than the big five-oh," Brian mouthed near silently into Liv's hairline.

Liv had been cuddled against on the couch for the better part of an hour. But she'd been staring off towards their stairs rather than at the show she'd picked on the boobtube.

Brian had let her. He didn't protest much when she came looking for his support and affection. Didn't exactly mind seeping up some of the physicality of just getting to be near to her too. And he could tell she was beat and decompressing. Had been happy to just sit there and stroke at her hair while he watched whatever this was she'd picked this time. All these fucking Scandinavian crime dramas and British period pieces that she was always putting on the TV when she got the control. Supposed it was better than some of the black-and-white, Golden Age of cinema, Fred Astaire shit she'd pick if it was a flick she'd gone for. But Liv really hadn't been watching it that night. Didn't even think she'd been listening to it.

Because he'd only gotten a "Hmm …?" when he'd said it – more like she'd felt the rumble of his vocalizations against his chest than she had clued into anything he'd even said. But at least he had her attention then, so Brian tried again.

"Think I've lost you a little down there," he provided.

He felt her smile a little against his chest that time. She'd heard him.

"What's going on in that rabbit hole?" he asked.

She made another quiet sound that confirmed he'd got her attention. Let out a real slow exhale that sounded a bit more like a sigh.

"Just thinking …," Liv said all wispy-like.

"About?" he pressed gently.

"My mom," she said even more … vacantly?

And his fingers briefly paused in the scrunch it was making through her hair and against her scalp. It took him a second before he relaxed them and started the slow movements again.

Liv pretty much almost never mentioned her Ma. He seriously could likely count on one hand – likely the hand where he was piecing some pieces of his fingers – how many times she'd so much as used the word 'mom' in the context of the woman who'd birthed her. Getting much more than a passing mention? That'd been maybe like two real conversations ever – and they'd been real brief.

"What about her?" he asked carefully, moving his other hand from where he'd been tracing lines along the armrest like he was jotting down dialogue while trying to keep up with the fucking subtitles on the show. But now he found her elbow – held her a bit more closely – and started making some little circles there instead.

"That I'm about to pass the number of years she lived," Liv muttered softly. "She died at fifty-one."

He rested his cheek a bit against her forehead while he processed that. Processed it and tried to figure out how exactly you respond to that.

"That's young …" was what he managed.

And, it was. Funny thing was not so long ago he probably would've thought fifty-one was pretty old. But he also hadn't really been able to imagine himself growing old. These days it was a different story. Parents of a young family. Young kids at home. Fucking mind-boggling that his own mom was coming up on her seventieth. That sounded old but his Ma sure as fuck didn't seem old most of the time. Force of nature. Kinda like Liv. Sure as fuck hoped the both of them had a lot more years in them. Many, many, many more years.

"Sometimes I find myself wondering how she'd feel about the way my life looks at fifty-one," Liv said.

"She should feel proud of you," Brian offered – he tried to go for some assured firmness there.

"She'd definitely have a lot of thoughts and opinions – but I doubt pride would be one of them."

"Fuck that," Brian mouthed against her forehead again.

He felt her smile a little more at that. Felt her fingers scrunch and release at the fabric of his shirt too. But she didn't say anything – and Brian knew he'd likely said the wrong thing in wading through this quagmire.

"I'm proud of you," he offered instead after giving them both a beat.

"I know," she mouthed quietly against his chest.

And he held at her.

"You're an amazing mom – and definitely not your mom, if that's more what you're really thinking about down there," he pressed into her hair.

And there was the feeling of a sad smile against the fabric of his shirt again.

"I'd like to think maybe we would've found some sort of common ground or understanding with me becoming a mom. That it would've been some sort of redo for us. Redo for her with the kids. That maybe she'd would've liked the experience of being a grandma. I think in my fantasy she would've been a lot like your mom as a grandma."

"That sounds more like a nightmare," Brian monotoned.

But it got a quiet amused sound and she shifted a little to give him a look for the first time. It was OK. Brian knew his Ma drove Liv nuts. She fucking drove him nuts too. It sort of worked out. Besides – give-and-take, good-and-bad. Had to take the whole mom-ness of it all to also utilizing the free daycare, afterschool care and babysitting services that her overbearing, boundary-pushing insanity brought along with it.

"You know I appreciate everything your mom does for us," Liv said, looking at him a bit more purposely.

"I know," Brian allowed. "She knows too. Just thought maybe in if you're going to talk about Fairytale Grandmas you might want to more model one after Eileen."

Liv allowed a snort at that. "Dealing with two Nana-Lean's would be its own nightmare too."

Brian smiled a little against her forehead. Tru-dat too. Cragen and his lady friend definitely were a big help too. Good to them and the kiddos. But they could be a little much in their own ways just as much as his mom.

"She wouldn't have been like either of them," Liv whispered, though. "I don't think she would've accepted them as her grandchildren."

"Why not?" Brian hissed a bit defensively – but he knew the answer. Because they weren't 'hers'. But fuck that too.

"She wouldn't have approved," Liv muttered mutely.

"Fuck that," he did say that time. Because really – fuck that.

"Don't you ever worry about – wonder about – where they came from?" Liv asked quietly.

He rubbed his cheek against her head top again. "We know where they came from," he said.

And she exhaled slowly and was quiet. "And don't you think about who and what Emmy's father was? What that made her mother become?"

"Yea, but, we see nature versus nurture with the kids every day, Liv. Feel like we see nurture counts for a lot."

"We're nurture, Bri …," she whispered. "And look at us. Look at Jack."

"Yea, well, not going to comment on Jack, but, Babe, we're both doing OK."

"As broken human beings," she said even more quietly.

It plunged into his chest a bit. So he held her closer to it. "You aren't broken, Liv. Maybe we're both a little fucked up. But we're functional. Everyone comes from something."

"And what about with Benji?"

"What about him?" he asked.

"He had years of nature and nurture before he came home."

"Yea, and now he's had years of nurture here and got years more ahead of him," he contended flatly.

She exhaled again – slowly. "Sometimes I think it's a miracle that I was born … healthy," she finally added after this pause that really hung there. "Given the circumstances."

"You're a survivor, Liv. From the get. You're teaching that to the kids. Resilience."

"You are too …," she allowed.

And they just sat there again. It all just sat there. A whole lot of history and past. So he just held her.

"I worried so much about his development when he first came home. About ADD, AD/HD, fetal alcohol syndrome. Delays socially and developmentally. But then …" She sighed and shook her head a bit against him. "I should've worried more. Stay cognizant – because I can't help but feel like this goes back to his mother's lifestyle choices and that whole … mess. Neglect, abandonment. Abuse. It's the trauma manifesting itself in this … real physical way. And I should've …" and her head shook again.

And he held her tighter. "It's not your fault."

And the air exhaled slowly from her lungs again. "I feel like my … impatience and annoyance with Jack is … I'm projecting some of the blame, anger at him."

"No," Brian said. "He's being an ass-hat. Patience threshold has been reached. He's got to pull his head out of the sand."

And she sighed harder and looked up at him again. "I still don't want him around on the weekend. I feel like … an awful person … mother … about that."

"But how's he gonna to make you feel if he is around this weekend? How's he gonna make it for all of us? For Ben?"

And her head rolled back against his chest again and her cheek rubbed there. "I know you have something planned this weekend," she said. "But, Bri, I don't really think if I want to do much of anything."

"That a pity party talking?" he ventured carefully.

"More like exhaustion," she said.

"You know if we hang around here, Jack's likely going show whether you want him to stop by or not," he told her directly.

"I know …," she acknowledged.

And it was quiet again. He held her more. He focused on the feel of her fingers tracing patterns on his side and pursing the material between her fingertips.

"Promise you'll like it," he whispered into her hair. "And the kids will too. With a minimal amount of kid wrangling. It will be low key."

She allowed a thin smile. "So you've planned another weekend of watching the narwhal-astronaut-firefighting-skateboarding-scientists in the park?"

"Nah, I thought we might change it up," he smiled against her forehead at her little sarcastic jab. "Demonstrate some sophistication suited to a woman your age."

That got a slightly amused and slightly annoyed noise out of her.

"In that case, I'd just like some real Italian, a bottle of red and the kids at your Mom's for the night as my birthday present and outing," she said real low – in that dangerous way that gave him all kinds of ideas.

"Pretty sure all that can still be arranged," Brian said. "Want me get her and the maitre-d on the line now?"

And he felt her smile a little more. "You need to learn anticipation is the best part of the foreplay, Bri."

"Right," he acknowledged and pressed a light kiss into her hair, smelling it. "Not sure that says much about how you feel about my pre-bed game …"

There as another little smile against his chest and then she shifted a bit – looking up at him. At his mouth. He felt it.

"You're an excellent kisser …," she said all raspy-like – and tilted her head just a bit.

Brian took the cue. He leaned in and he enjoyed it. They both let it linger – but it wasn't anything that was going to turn into anything. It was just nice. And just enough. You know, to show each other you were still there – for them, with them – and not going anywhere.

And then she pulled away and settled back down against him. Her arms holding at him a bit tighter.

Brian had known she'd pull away first. That even though she looked for the kiss that she'd keep it brief. He could feel coming off her that they wouldn't be doing much of anything that night. Based on the thoughts and feelings she was expressing about her 51st, doubted birthday sex would be how she wanted to wake up in the morning either. Or wanted a birthday lay on the post-kid gifts, singing and cheesecake the following evening either.

But that was OK. Alone time – date night, all-night – would be good for them too. His Ma would be more than happy to oblige. He already had her on standby. Though, it'd likely be about a week off at this point.

"Unless you want to attempt a weeknight or my cooking somehow can pass as 'real Italian', likely not going to be until next weekend," he told her.

"That's OK," Liv said.

No further clarification on what her preference would be. But it was likely a given that her preference wouldn't be a weeknight. Not lately. Not with kiddos at home and school nights. He'd have to check in with his mom and call around to the couple of the nicer Italian places.

"Alex called today," she said, drawing Brian out of his mental rundown of places he had a chance in hell of maybe getting a reservation for a Friday or Saturday night that would fit Liv's bill.

"She get the day wrong?" he asked.

"No. Trevor had got tickets to the Jack-o-Lantern Blaze but his brother's family cancelled out. She wanted to know if we'd like the tickets?"

"This weekend?"

She shook her head a bit. "Next weekend."

"Oh," Brian sighed inwardly. Of course. And wouldn't be shocked if Liv favored a night with Alex and her tribe over a no-kids date-night. It'd been a while since they'd had the attorneys over – or vice-versa. But it'd also been a good while since they'd gotten the house to themselves for a few hours either. Priorities.

"I think," she exhaled too, like she'd just realized the conflict and choice there too. "I'd have to look at the calendar again. It might be the following."

Brian made a little sound. "Only that things just at night, isn't it?" She made a sound of agreement. "So isn't that kinda brave of them with Leo?"

"I think she said it's for the earliest admission. Six-thirty?"

"Still," Brian muttered. "With Big Man?"

"I know," Liv sighed a little. "I feel like … no one really gets it."

"Yea, well … I guess we have to work at … making sure people get it more."

"Jack doesn't even get it …," she whispered again. "I can't get him to … understand."

"He's not in a place where he wants to understand yet," Brian said a little harshly. But then loosened – softened – his grip on her shoulder and his voice. "It takes a while. Look, even took Mom and Cragen a while to get it. It's being around him. And Jack's not showing up much lately."

"He doesn't understand what that's doing to Benji," Liv whispered. "The feelings of abandonment, the self-worth issues it's bringing to the forefront again."

"His head is up his ass, Liv," Brian said. "We've both said as much to him. It's too far up for us to yank it out for him. He's going to have to decide to do that on his own."

And there was another staggered exhale from her. "You should've seen the way Benji's eyes lit up when I picked him up at school today," she whispered. He smiled into her hair again the way she said it. "He held my hand as we talked to the train, Bri."

"Mmm …," he allowed, rubbing his cheek against her crown. "Yea … no one tells you how awesome that feels, right? I keep feeling like each time he does it anymore is gonna be the last. Like we're on a countdown clock or something."

She made her own small, sad sound of acknowledgement too. "And every time he does it I wonder how with moments like that – from your child – my mother wasn't able to love me."

"She loved you, Liv," Brian tried.

"No, she didn't," Liv whispered. "And I feel like she wouldn't love Benji. Or Emmy. That she'd hate where they came from, or who they are, what they represent. About me, about my choices. About her past. But every time their eyes look at me like that – their little hands find mine like that – the way I feel it …" and her hand touched at her chest. At her heart.

"I hear you …," Brian allowed. Heard her one-hundred percent.

"I still have some of her life insurance money put away," Liv whispered.

"Yea," Brian acknowledged. "The college fund?"

Again there was that quiet sound of acknowledgement. "If the immunoglobulin therapy wouldn't be funded, or fully funded, I want to cash it out, Bri. I want to use it for that."

"But … we kept that money aside for their education …?" he gazed at her.

Liv shifted again and looked at him. "I never wanted to use the money of a woman who wished I didn't exist. A woman I strongly suspect would feel my son shouldn't exist – at least not as my son. But I want Benji to exist, Bri. And thrive. And if this treatment – this money to fund the treatment – can help do that … isn't that the ultimate 'fuck you'?"

He allowed her a sad smile. "You might have a point."

She nodded a bit. "Then that's what I want to do."

"Thank you and fuck you …," Brian whispered.

"And happy birthday to me too …," Liv added at a level he could just barely hear. But he did.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Reviews and comments are appreciated.**

**Not sure what chapter/scene will be next. Still not sure if I'm going to do a scene from liv's birthday or not.**

**Still watch for a chapter back in Best Laid Plans. Likely going to complete some fluff over there for a change of pace soon.**


	12. Reaching Out

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

Jack outwardly groaned as he stomped up the stairs to his walk-up studio (aka – his storage closet that was pretty clearly masquerading as a studio apartment by Manhattan standards when he was pretty sure the fucking master suite in Mom and Brian's place had more square footage than he got for his fucking $1575 a month). And just to make him think about that more, there was Brian sitting in the stairwell, staring at his phone. Just what he fucking needed. The guy glanced up at him from whatever he was fixated on.

"Don't you have somewhere to be," Jack grumbled at him, as he forcibly stepped around him. Pretty much purposely near whacking him in the head with his messenger bag and then his bag of Chipolte.

Got no comment, though. Fucking Brian just stood up like him getting there was some kind of invitation for him to come in. Fuck that too.

"Yea, I do," Brian said. "In like an hour. So I'm killing some time."

"Can't you do that somewhere else," Jack muttered, as he got up to his door and fished out his keys. Worked at jiggling the lock open. The security of this place fucking sucked. Sometimes it gave him fucking anxiety. Like the randos and solicitors wasn't enough to cause that – Brian sure fucking was.

Brian tapped some Tupperware into his chest like that was some kind of answer or response to him getting the hell away from him and out of his space.

"Cheesecake," Brian said.

Jack looked at it but didn't take it. "So you can't afford to get Jamin birthday edibles but you can afford a fucking Junior's sampler?" he pressed – and then pressed the door open.

Brian just cocked his head at him, all annoyed like. Didn't say shit. Just followed him in – so fucking uninvited. And pushed by him that time to go and set it on the counter of his '_kitchen_'. Yea, '_kitchen_'.

"Liv knows how you feel about cheesecake," Brian said. "So since you didn't get a slice…"

Jack could hear him opening the little bar fridge that he had in the _kitchen_ – checking it out for space and contents and then closing the door and dropping it on the counter instead. There was stuff in the _fridge_. Like condiments and maybe some milk and a carton of OJ. Maybe. It was likely there but expired. It wasn't like he was eating there much. Because there wasn't exactly space to cook. Basically condiments from takeout and maybe some milk for cereal and a swig of OJ was pretty much filled the _fridge _anyway.

"And she didn't want the leftovers in the house."

Jack trudged up the little, narrow, cramped entryway after dropping his bag, shucking his shoes and peeling off his top layer of hoodie. Brian was giving his _apartment_ a real good look around. Fuck that too.

"And maybe I don't want leftovers that have been sitting at room temperature all fucking day," Jack said. "And, maybe if she thought I might like a slice, you know, I should've been invited over for cake."

Brian just cocked his head real hard again. Glared at him. "One - we've got all these crazy workplace amenities at the office – like lunchrooms. They've even got these insane fucking inventions called refrigerators. So, you know, maybe as a grown man, it occurred to me to put the fucking cheesecake in there for the day. And also miraculously – as the fucking boss – no one ate it. Lucky for you. And two, Jack, don't be a fucking ass-hat. We called you. We told you we were home Sunday. Clearly invited you over for dinner and cake. And, you clearly didn't show. Again."

"Well, Mom made pretty clear wasn't all that welcome."

"Yea, Jack, because you can't seem to put your fucking big boy pants on lately."

"You can go," Jack muttered at him, pushing by him again to slump onto the futon and start digging out his burrito.

Brian didn't move. Just stood there in that invisible boundary between the _kitchen_ and _living space_. Just stared at him. Glared at him. Whatever.

"Live in this neighborhood and you're eating fucking Chipolte," Brian nodded at him.

Jack just took a large bite. Of his burrito. Not the fucking commentary.

"Know you could do a lot better for a lot cheaper," Brian added. "Especially when you're crying poor all the time about finding a way out of this place."

Jack just kept chewing. Still wasn't biting.

Brian went and leaned against the ladder that lead up to the _loft _that pretty much could fit a mattress – not a bedframe. And you better damn well just be fucking propelling yourself into bed from the top of the ladder. Not expecting to stand or stoop or even really crawl over to it. Basically not even expecting to sit up in bed without the top of your head hitting the _ceiling_.

Brian glanced up there at the _bedroom _anyway. Gave it another look and then gave Jack another examination – and the fucking _living space_.

"Take it you and Renee haven't sorted your shit out yet with the way you've got it looking like a dump in here," Brian put flatly.

"You're one to talk," Jack said. "Remember – I saw both your and Mom's places pre-Jamin. She didn't have food or own pots. And your place was a fucking shithole."

"Aww shucks, thanks for remembering," Brian cocked his head at him again.

Jack shook his head. "Renee never comes over here anyway. You know, if she's alone with me at my place I might decide I'm gonna rape her or something."

And it was like someone took the oxygen out of the room. Jack felt it. More like he could feel the holes Brian's eyes were boring into him with that comment. Jack didn't look at him. He couldn't with the way the room had changed. And it hung there for too fucking long. Long enough that Jack didn't even feel like he was allowed to breath.

"You saying shit like that – diminishing what she went through in that way, Kid – makes me think you sure don't have a chance in hell of mending fences with her. And you don't fucking deserve to either."

Jack gave him the slightest glance. He could still feel him fucking staring at him. Glaring at him. But the glance showed enough that Brian was pissed. And he quickly looked away. Took a real good interest in his burrito again. Took a real big bite. Tried to ignore him.

"Jack, what the fuck is going on with you lately," Brian said. Finally. Finally stopping glaring at him. "I feel like I'm talking to a fucking twelve year old every time I try to have a conversation with you. Fuck – Jack, I don't get as much attitude and tween-y tantrums out of Ben as I do you."

Jack just gave him a look. "Fuck you," he said flatly.

Brian just shook his head and crossed his arms, leaning against the ladder more. "Yea, fuck me. I'm the asshole here."

Jack gave him a shrug and gestured back at the door. "There's the door."

That just got his head cocked again. "Kid, seriously. I feel like we've had this conversation on repeat for like seven years. I really don't care what the fuck you think of me. I'd like to think I've earned being treated a bit better than you fucking treat me. But whatever. Fine. But I really do fucking care how you make Liv and the kids feel. And whatever the fuck is going on these last like six weeks, two months – it's just …"

Brian shook his head and exhaled. The guy stared at the floor in front of him.

"You're alienating them – us, Jack," Brian said flatly and then looked at him. "It's not just Liv and Ben. You had Ducky real fucking confused this weekend why you weren't around."

Jack shrugged. "Because Mom didn't want me there for her birthday."

Brian kept his eyes. "You know that's not the fucking intent behind the conversation you had with Liv. And that's not what I tell my six-year-old, Jack. Not when she's asking if you just don't come to birthdays anymore. We're going two-oh here, Jack. What's the plan for Halloween? Thanksgiving? Your birthday? Christmas? You just going to keep – whatever the fuck this is – going? You punishing us? Or are you punishing yourself?"

Jack just took another bite. Brian stared at him.

"We need you to grow up, Jack," he said. "You need to tell us what the fuck is going on. And we need to figure out a way to fix it."

And he just chewed. And Brian scrubbed at his face.

"Kid," he sighed at him as he brought his hands down. "Me and Liv – we're hanging by a thread here. OK? We're tired. We're hurting. We're scared. We're doing a whole lot of juggling trying to … I don't even fucking know what we're trying to do at this point. But I do know we don't have the time or energy to keep doing this with a fucking twenty-five year-old. So, I'm fucking telling you – I've tried, she's tried – and for me, this is likely gonna be the last time I reach out for a good while. After right now, Kid, the ball's in your court."

Jack shrugged. "OK," he said.

Brian exhaled all exaggerated and slow. Just kept looking at him. "OK," he acknowledged. Finally.

And then he exhaled again. But finally pushed himself up from where he was leaning and stuffed his hand into his jacket pocket, pulling out some pamphlets. He came over and dropped them on the futon next to Jack. Jack gave them a glance. They were medical pamphlets about lupus and shit.

"So me and Liv decided we're going ahead with the immunoglobulin therapy for Ben," Brian said flatly. "We've let the upper ranks know today to get things in motion. We were gonna talk to you about it last night," he provided and gave him another head shake and a shrug – clearly about him not showing. "So I swung by the kids' hospital and picked that shit up for you. So you can educate yourself. There will be a pre-op type thing with the docs before the treatment. Won't have time for you to get a More You Know spiel on lupus from the doc – but if you want to come and sit in and listen, let us know."

Jack gave the pamphlets a little finger. Just sweeping at them enough to fan them out so he could actually see what's there.

"And, don't know if you talked to Alex over the weekend," Brian muttered, "but she's put out an invite for us to head up to Sleepy Hollow next weekend with her clan to do some of the Halloween stuff. We're going to go if Ben's feeling up to it."

"As usual …" Jack said under his breath.

And it caught another glare from Brian. "Yea. As usual. This is the new normal, Jack." And they caught eyes. Played chicken for a long beat. "There's enough tickets if you want to come. That's Saturday. I was hoping that you might want to work at smoothing some stuff out with the kids before that – and do me a soild that would get you a step toward being back in Liv's good grace's too – and do some babysitting and bedtime routine for us on Friday night so I can take Liv out for a belated birthday dinner. Sleepover, join us Saturday."

Jack just went back to examining his burrito. Picking the next best spot to take a bit.

"Yea, OK," Brian muttered. "If you could let me know by like tomorrow night. My mom will watch them if your schedule is too overloaded."

Jack just gave him a look – a glare – at that.

Brian shook his head a bit at him. But finally moved like he was going to leave. Even took a step or two in the right direction. But then he just stopped. He just stood there. Jack stared at his back. The guy stared at the floor.

"We aren't so different, John Paul," he finally said evenly. Flatly. Quietly. And then he turned just a bit to look back at Jack again.

And Jack looked at him. He stared. He processed. He tried to figure out if Brian had ever used his full name before. Mom did. Sometimes. A real sometimes. Just a handful of times. When she was really trying to get his attention or connect with him. And Jack could tell that was what Brian was doing now.

"And I don't know if it's Ben or you not loving the new job or you feeling a whole lot for a girl in a whole new way that's setting you off. Or if it's just all that happening at the same time that's more than you've got the resources to handle. But, Kid – I get it. I've been there. And I've got some real worries and concerns about where you're headed if you don't figure out how to get your head out of your ass and on straight."

"You don't know shit …" Jack said quietly.

Brian exhaled and stared at the floor again. His hands buried deep in his pockets.

"I know that if you ever want to grab a burger or play some Playstation and talk about what your uncle did to you – or any of the things you haven't been ready to tell us that he did to you – I can listen, Jack. And talk it through with you. And we can figure it out as a family. Try to figure out a way to help you get through it so you can fix things with Renee a bit."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jack gave him a disgusted look. But then looked away.

"Yea, sure," Brian muttered.

And just kept his eyes on him – Jack could feel them even though he'd gone to looking out the window into the dying leaves of the tree in the back garden. About the only decent thing about this place was that he didn't look right into another wall out the window.

"I know that with me and Liv," Brian said. "The biggest bumps we've had in our relationship and as a family, even in the hiccups we've had with our gigs – a lot of it's been personal shit we weren't willing to bear our souls about. So kept it hidden, buried. Had to really work on learning to talk and communicate – and trust – we still do, to get through the fucking … bad patches. Kid, my twenties – good chunk of my thirties – it was a bad patch. Don't do that to yourself. Waste of time and waste of your life. OK?"

Jack gave him a glance but then worked at peeling back the foil on his burrito more. Got it folded down real nice.

"OK …," Brian finally said and really took a step for the door that time. Mulitple steps. Got right up to it, pulled it open and looked back one last time. "So drop me a line tomorrow about if you want to do Friday. Saturday. Kids would like to see you. Miss you. Liv and me do too."

And then Jack heard the door shut. And he tossed the burrito smack into the wall just feet in front of him. Watching it spatter there and thud to the ground.

And he pressed his fingers into his eyes – telling himself it was the hot sauce on them that was making them sting and water so.

It wasn't.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Reviews, comments and feedback appreciated.**


	13. All Night

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

"I'm here all night," Cassidy heard Johnny crack off inside the hospital room that he was waiting just outside the door of; leaning against the wall, absently scanning through this bullshit that Liv had wanted him to go over to Lindstrom's office and pick up. Like this was going to be some kind of turning point for him in deciding that therapy – talk, group, sex, couple, family … he didn't fucking know – would be good for him. Hadn't really been looking, though. Mostly listening to John's comedy show he had going on inside the door for the poor nurse that had been put in charge of him that night.

And there she appeared, shaking her head – and spotting Cassidy standing there. She gave him a thin small and his elbow a small squeeze before reaching beside him and applying some sanitizer to her hands. Likely more than needed it with all the macking that Johnny had going on in there.

"He's all yours," she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Yea, lucky me," Brian rasped at her. It got a small amused noise and another little knock at his arm with hers as he pushed himself up straight and she wandered back to the charge station before heading on to the next patient she was monitoring that night.

Cassidy steadied himself a bit – in more than one way – before he made himself step into the room that Johnny was stuck in that night. John just looked sicker and sicker each time they saw him anymore. It was hard to watch. Harder still went the fucking cancer wasn't fucking with his mind yet. Munch was still there. Still Munch – in mind and endless commentary. Got wiped out pretty easily – too fucking easily. But it was more that he just looked like shit.

Bri knew that he'd likely just be sitting there with Johnny until either these latest second-line chemo meds had him wheezing again and the allergy meds got pumped into him to knock him out. Or the fucking cocktail – and the stress and anxiety of the day – just knocked him out. Either way, it was always a little hard to get up and go after Johnny fell asleep.

Been more than once that he'd stayed into the night only for Munch to wake up eventually and give him shit for not having gone home to Liv and the kids. But Liv understood. She'd do the same. Just was that Johnny couldn't seem to handle her company as much.

Wasn't sure Liv quite got it. Thought she was a little hurt. But Brian knew where John was coming from. Didn't like Liv seeing him that way. Brian got some kind of pass. Some sort of bromance or rabbi agreement going on. Pretend that neither of them could see what was happening here. The seconds ticking down on the clock. Didn't talk about it. Not yet. Not sure if they would. He was leaving it up to John. But Johnny – everything was always covered up with a joke. Cassidy didn't expect death to be much different.

They both knew – all knew – it was coming. Cassidy was actually at the point he wasn't sure how much longer John was going to subject himself to treatment. Into second and third-line therapies now. Another thing Johnny didn't tell him much about was what his docs were saying. But also didn't really need to say. Obviously wasn't going great if they were trying yet another cocktail here. Obviously not great if the infusion was so long and had so many side effects that John's treatment days needed an overnight at the hospital.

But that also wasn't going to be something they'd get into. So instead, Cassidy pressed himself to slap on the Yippie Skippy for Johnny. Try for the smiling doofus. That only worked so well. But it still got a smile out of John when he saw him come in the door. The guy was still sitting up in the lounger at that point, gazing at the TV remote that had been left with him like it was some kind of high-tech foreign object. All about the perils of technology, never about adopting technology. That was John. Actually amazing the guy was even considering turning on the TV. Who knew what he watched in his own time. History channel conspiracy crap. Another documentary about JFK. Stuff about the moon landing.

God, they'd set off a firestorm with taking the kids to the space center down in Florida. Taking in the Apollo landing exhibits. He'd worked at trying to convince the kids that the moon landing was all a hoax. Complete fake. First that'd confused the hell out of them. Then it'd just launched into this extended After-School Program of the kids trying to prove Unkie Munchie wrong. Convince him. Give him and Liv a fucking headache. Whole lot of back-and-forth and back-and-forth and frustrated explanations and some animated arm movements from all parties. It ultimately collimated in more backyard rocket science experimentary to get Munch to concede that maybe they launched the fucking things but he was still not going to believe they made it to the moon.

Fuck. He was such an old beatnik, hippy, man in black. Cassidy didn't fucking know. Did know – could see – he looked like a real old man now. Frail, bordering skeletal, even for Johnny. And wrapped up in a blanket. But still the smart-ass smile – and the grotesque ears. Bigger with what the disease and its 'treatment' had done to the bit of fat and muscle the guy had previously had on his body.

"Brian…," John greeted. There was some real surprise and relief in the tone. Johnny always seemed a little surprised when he showed up. Though, it was getting kind of predictable at this point. Thought it'd likely be part of the routine until the end. Or at least as long as Johnny kept telling him when these overnight infusions were. "What no flowers? You really should've …"

"Yea, no flowers. I left them with Gloria to make up for her having to put up with your kind of pain in the ass, Munchie Munch …," he said with a nod back toward the door and the nursing station.

"Oh? So you did make sure she knew they're from me?" he said with that little bit of sparkle still right there in his eye.

Cassidy gave his head a bit of a shake at it. More that changes …

"You really think you got to lay it on that thick every time she comes in the room," Brian put to him.

"She loves it," John said, shifting in his chair a bit, while Brian grabbed the much less comfortable one and dragged it over to slouch across from him.

"Yea? She loves some seventy-two-year-old cancer patient macking on her?" Brian nodded at him.

John gave a little shrug. "You know some woman are real Florence Nightingales.

Brian snorted a little at that little bit of sarcasm. "Yea, well, maybe you should get your bleeding heart along with your ass in the hospital bed. Might have more luck."

John allowed him a quiet smile for the effort while he got settled.

"Think you'd be over the fear of hospitals with Bingo by now," John said. "You don't have to wait out in the hall while she's in here."

Brian gave him another look, tapping his crunched up paperwork on his knee. "Don't get any ideas, Johnny. No way I'm letting you crawl into my lap while the nurses poke and prod ya."

John examined him a bit more at that. "Still going that well, huh?"

Brian gave him a little shrug. "Nah, it's fine. He's fine. Big Man's a trooper. Depends on the day what kind of supports he needs to soldier through. You know?"

"I do," John allowed mutely.

Brian kept his eyes for a beat after that. Knew Johnny knew. Johnny likely had a whole different – starker – perspective than him and LIv in some ways. Could feel it in a different way. Him and Liv were just kinda left to imagine. It was driving them a little crazy.

"More me and Liv losing our minds right now," Brian said scrubbing at his face real good and slouching a bit more against the arm rest.

"What about?" John asked.

Brian just made a little noise. Thought about not getting into it – because John really didn't need any more shit layered onto him. But also knew it was some kind of distraction. Likely talking about this was better distraction than whatever he was going to find on the TV in this shared room that likely some person was going to be groaning and screaming in the bed next to him by the time the lights got flicked out for the night. Was just that he didn't really want to have Johnny stressing about Ben's stuff. Not that he got the real sense that John did. He seemed to take any conversation about it in stride. Take a real pragmatic perspective on it all. Be real, 'You and liv are the right people to handle this' talk. Supportive. But that didn't necessarily hint at what was really going on inside the guy. Rarely did. Munch didn't talk about shit like that. His own walls.

"We signed off on the immunoglobulin therapy," Brian nodded at him though. "Know it's the best choice. Right choice for the kid. Gotta try. But still – you know – any blood transfusion stuff has got to make you a little leery no matter all the safety precautions and statistics they spout at you. And, just I don't know, some of the side effects. And the cost. This turns out to be the best thing and regular thing and we'll really be going for broke here."

"You need cash?" was all Johnny said.

And Brian shook his head and held up a hand just to stop that in its tracks. "Nah, we're fine, Johnny."

But Munch leaned forward a bit and put his hand on Cassidy's knee way too intense-like, really looked at him, right in the eye. "You're the chosen son, Brian. Take the money now or get the inheritance later. At this point, it doesn't make any difference to me."

Brian sat back a bit, letting out a sigh. "C'mon, John. Don't talk like that."

John only shrugged at him. "You know it's there."

"Yea. I thought your fortune was all shifted out to your five wives on a monthly basis?" he tried – trying to lighten this load and to just offload it. Get off it.

"Four," John corrected firmly. "And you don't see any of them here to be divvying up the remaining big bucks there way."

"Oh? That how that works? Clearly need to brush up on my tax and estate law given the pending fortune coming my way," Brian muttered.

"Might be a good idea," Munch said. "Just don't trust anyone who deals in finance – in this socio-political economy."

"Right," Brian rolled his eyes a bit. "You know, maybe you should use some of that fortune while you're living and look into moving some of this treatment to in-home."

"And desecrate my humble adobe with all this paraphernalia," he said with a swipe of the arm to the IV and the various beeping machines tracking his vitals. But Brian thought he more likely meant that moving the treatment to home might be a step toward dying at home – and a hospital bed arriving there to accommodate that process.

"Me and Liv, we're shooting straight with you, John," Brian found his eyes. "No one's in the garden unit. You'd have your space. We can help you over this hump."

Thing was 'this hump' might be the 'last hump'. And there was a flicker in John's eyes. One that he likely didn't mean for Cassidy to see, because he tried for another joke.

"Skeletor terrifies the children enough," he said with a gesture at his diminishing mass, his prominent cheekbones and hanging skin. "I don't think they need to see dust-to-dust."

"You kidding me," Brian pressed at him. "You know how much the kiddos love science. You already got them versed in dust-to-dust with Liv's baking gone wrong out back."

Johnny allowed him a thin smile for that effort but didn't let the conversation – where the answer was likely always going to be 'no' – die. He straightened, grabbing Brian's crunched up papers as he went.

"You bring me some of Bingo's latest cryptography? Just to prove to him how 'wrong' he is about everything?"

Brian snorted at that. He'd gripped a little tighter on the papers as John tugged at them. But that only earned a look and a firmer pull at them. So Brian had let them go. And watched Johnny scan the papers too.

"It's just something Liv had me pick up," Brian mumbled. "You know … shut her up a bit about it. Happy wife …"

Munch looked at him over the top of the papers – and his glasses. "She wants you to see a head shrinker?"

Brian shook his head at that and slouched some more in the chair. His ass was already going numb. "I don't know. I guess. Or group therapy. I mean, it's fucking ridiculous. These lists – there's probably going to be vics her unit's dealt with at the therapy groups. And the shrinks – like half the names I know from the job. Star witnesses for both sides. So, what the fuck do I do with that?"

John made a sound and handed the papers back to him. Brian just crunched them back into a roll again and went back to tapping them on his knee.

"Why's she want you to see a shrink now?" John asked.

Brian shrugged and exhaled. "It's not exactly now," he gestured a bit. "I mean, she dragged me to some 'family' and 'parenting' counselor back in the winter. It's just – not my fucking thing. You know?"

"Maybe it should be," Munch stated flatly, raising an eyebrow at him.

"What? And sit across from some baby booming ass-hat looking to have me keep lining his already deep pockets by letting him catalogue my entire sexual history so he can label it as dysfunction?"

Munch just looked at him. Maybe too long. "As much as I am loath to acknowledge that SVU's Mother Teresa is having a sexual relationship with my former partner, the Choir Boy … Brian, is that an area you need to talk about?"

"What? You playing head shrinker now, Johnny?" he pressed at him.

Munch just shrugged and gestured up at the IV. "I'm actually just kind of stuck here looking for ways to pass time."

Brian sighed and sat back again.

"It sounded like that was a line you'd rehearsed," John put to him instead.

Brian exhaled. "Yea, well, when you get down to it – you go into some therapist or counselor or whatever and tell them some perv touched you as a kid seems like them wanting to know what kind of dysfunctional its turned you into pretty quick."

"Only, I think we both know that sexual molestation has far sweeping effects that span far and wide outside the bedroom," Munch said. "And, I'd give the vast majority of shrinks the professional courtesy of providing the benefit of the doubt that they're educated enough to know that too."

Brian scrubbed at his face a bit and just looked at John. "Know the funny thing is that my relationship with Liv – relationship and … you know—"

"Still bashful about buying the condoms, Brian …," Munch offered flatly in a long ago tease. But there was still some truth to it.

Cassidy exhaled. "Liv's the only woman I've been with that I've actually skipped the embarrassment of that pharmacy trip," he said. "John, she's the most normal relationship, most normal sex, I've had. I know that. And I know it's fucking fucked up – because Liv's just as fucked up, if not more fucked up than me. But it's not something I want to sit around getting all Kumbaya about with a counselor or a support group. It just sounds like a fucking big circle jerk to me. And – there: trigger …"

John just stared at him. "Is it the sex – the communication," John corrected, because he clearly got it, "that's got her wanting you to follow-up with some people on that list?"

Brian slumped his temple against his fist on the armrest and shook his head. "I don't know. Not really. She likely tells Lindstrom – her shrink – not me."

John just raised an unimpressed eyebrow at that and gave him a look.

"She thinks I'm projecting on Ben too much," he said flatly with a bit of a frustrated gesture. "And I'm being 'over-protective' and 'hypervigilant'. Short fuse with anyone that looks at the kids. Etcetera, etcetera. Basically – triggering."

"Are you?"

Brian shrugged. "The kid has victim written all over him."

"Does he?" Munch put to him.

Brian started listing off on his fingers. "He's adopted. He's small for his age. He's dyslexic. He's a previous victim – abuse, neglect, abandonment. And now this? Lupus? Fucking in the hospital for treatment and imaging and tests all the time? Out of school sick like monthly? I mean, c'mon, you know what's out there. You know how predators are, what they look for. I don't think I'm being that absurd about wanting eyes on my kids."

Brian could see the way Munch was looking at him – and he shook his head hard at it.

"Liv's got her own shit where she's all twitchy too," he added defensively. "So, I don't know. It's just now she's got some name to put to it for me, how I am as a parent, why I'm that way – so it's 'concerning'."

John just stared at him again. "Have you talked to anyone about what happened to you yet, Brian?"

He shrugged again. "Sure. Whole courtroom got to hear."

"That's not what I meant," Munch said flatly. "You know that."

He sunk back some more. "Liv. I feel like a lot, she feels like a bit. And the parenting counselor she made us go to got the highlights. I don't think the woman felt too qualified to deal with my shit. We ended up talking about Ben. And Emmy. Their learning differences, how to parent that. Which was why we were supposed to fucking be there."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Munch asked.

Brian huffed a bit. "John, the thing is that I don't fucking know what anyone wants me to say about it."

"You were eleven?" Munch said.

"Yea, good detecting, Johnny," Brian muttered and stared at the floor – stopping himself and calming himself. "When it started," he managed more calmly. "Two ball seasons. He groomed me the first season. You know – I was a good mark too. Single mom, no dad on the scene, likely picked up on some of the DV that was in my life. So, yea. It stopped just after I turned thirteen – because I started skipping out of practice. Didn't let my Ma sign me up the next summer." He sat there staring at the floor for a while and then said a bit more quietly, "Hands and mouth. He didn't rape me."

"That's legalese semantics," John said. "He raped you."

Brian cocked his head at him. "He molested me," he provided flatly. "And I don't know what else anyone needs to hear about it."

"Cassidy," Munch finally said. "I don't think it's the courtroom details that Liv wants to hear about – or that she thinks maybe you could benefit from some therapy for – now, with two kids and a wife at home …"

Brian sighed a bit and looked at him. "Yea. How it screwed up my life? Right? Head case and a real sob story?"

"Is that the way you feel about your life?"

Brian shook his head and stared off at the television that Johnny had never managed to get on. "I know that any of those things – it's not what Ben or Em or Liv. Or my mom. You. Need in their lives."

"Well, I don't want to speak for the rest of them," John said, "but I didn't select you as my protégé lightly. And je ne rein that choice. So I would wager admitting – or acknowledging – that a monster impacted the person you are, Brian, isn't going to make your family suddenly equate you as a head case or sob story. You're a survivor – like your wife. She appreciates that. There's probably something to it in why the two of you have endured the other for so long."

Brian allowed a little amused noise at that and let himself look at John. "Liv beats herself up about it all a little too much. End up feeling like I'm revictimizing her. Like even being around me – dealing with my shit now, or it being out in the open – it's like fucking her up more. Sometimes."

"And that would be something you'd do better talking to a therapist about than me," John said. "As you know, I didn't excel at keeping a wife or managing her issues amid the many of my own."

Brian allowed a little smile at that and gazed at the ground again. "You know, right now, yea … there's stress with Ben, his health. All the questions and fears, worries with that. And Em. This dual-lingo thing that Liv went and got her in. Like the kid wasn't more than smart enough, like I wasn't going to keep up with her barely through middle school – now I'm supposed to try to help her with homework in another fucking language? And French? C'mon. Then shit at work. This slot they're dragging their asses on filling. So backlog. And some of the investigations we've had to do. These cases this fall," he shook his head and stared at the floor. "But if you want to talk triggers, I look at Jack and feel like shaking the kid. I feel like I'm looking in a mirror and that kid – alienation, can't keep a girlfriend, can't hold down a job, anger, short fuse, emotional immaturity. All this anxiety about everything and not saying 'boo' to anyone about it. He's headed straight into a blackhole. And it's like we keep trying to pull him out of it – before his 20s, 30s, whatever – disappear into it. And he's just like 'fuck you'. I don't know."

He shook his head and stared at John. "I'm told life is suffering," he said. "Apparently it's a good gauge in knowing we're still a live."

"Yea, that's about right," Cassidy muttered. "Living the dream."

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Munch said.

"Yea ..," Brian muttered and leaned to take the forgotten remote from Johnny. "Shotgun … I'll find some Neanderthals running into each other – Monday Night Football – for you to watch."

"There's a way to knock me out faster," John said.

"Sure," Brian allowed. "Just as long as it's not going to put you out of your misery just yet."

Not yet. Wasn't ready for that. Didn't think Johnny was either.

**Comments, reviews and feedback appreciated**.


	14. Definitions of Womanhood

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

Olivia felt that moment of tension wash over Brian as she nudged into his space – leaning into his side and his back.

"Just me," she whispered – more mouthed - against his shoulder. Even though she knew she really didn't need to. That initial tension had passed – just like it usually did – when he realized – knew – it was her.

But there was some sort of ritual – comfort that Brian hadn't quite found a way to verbally admit to her – that had developed in her mouthed assurance of her presence. So it'd stuck. Just like that tension stuck. Just like even though Brian was able to shake it off, he'd never seemed to be able to get that initial flinch out of him. That tension and stress and anxiety and hurt and damage that would always be there. That had been ingrained into him as a little boy. No so different from the little boy – and girl – he was standing there watching intently now – like always too. Their family's quiet (except for when he really – REALLY – wasn't) sentry.

Olivia stood with Brian for a beat – gazing at their family.

The playground in Sleepy Hollow was a little sleepy compared to what their kids had grown spoiled with in a developing and gentrifying area of Brooklyn. Even more spoiled in their rather regular trips back into Manhattan to run their sillies out with a different view. But the set-up the little town had in the waterfront park still wasn't exactly anything to sneeze at. Olivia knew if – and when – the kids actually got around to looking at the play structures they would likely lose Benji and Emmy to imaginative and rambunctious play and exploration for at least half-an-hour. But for now they seemed far more interested in the old stone bridges over the stream and the cobbled remains of towers and arches and buildings that had once made up the Croton Aqueduct that had once taken water all the way into the city.

They'd pointed out to the kids that this was the same stream – in a park – where Ichabod Crane first encountered the Headless Horseman. Ahead of this outing, they'd been sure to get Disney's rendition of the tale and read through the Washington Irving classic with them complete with flashlights and spooky voices in the dark huddled under the blankets in Mommy and Daddy's bed (which had earned them the joy of having their kids piled on top of them that night and the next due to the spookiness and alleged nightmares factor … oops). But for the moment their play seemed more like something out of Pirates of the Caribbean than a spine-tingly Halloween horror.

Benji and Emmy were charging up and down the stone steps and boundaries, tearing across the archways and bridges, teetering over the rock benches like they were planks to be walked. All while trying to position themselves to fire imaginary cannons and arrows and spears at each other. Some not so imaginary. There had been some sticks tossed and pebbles thrown – earning some early chastising from Mom and Dad.

Poor little Leo was trying to keep up with them but apparently his dad had decided that Benji and Emmy were being a little too wild. Though, Olivia supposed she couldn't exactly blame Trevor this time. Her kids were still clearly burning off the energy from whatever Janet had feed them that morning. And likely whatever they'd gotten to munch to the movies with for their pyjama party too, no doubt.

Trevor had pulled Leo aside and down to closer to the shallow water. They were retrieving colourful autumn leaves and fashioning little sticks and twigs and moss on them before attempting to float them down the trickling stream. It was bringing some shrieks of glee out of Leo when they did actually float away – and not sink. There'd been a few frantic dashes to get to the other side of the arched bridge to see if they could spot their boats coming out the other side.

Olivia was sure when Benji and Emmy did calm – managed to run some of their sillies out after being confided to the SUV for the short drive up – they might decide they were just as excited to take part in that game. Though, with the two of them it'd end up being a competitive exercise in engineering that would likely result in both of them completely covered in dirt – and probably with wet shoes and socks. It was a good thing they still always travelled with changes of clothes for their kids. Multiple changes now – with the unpredictable fall weather forecast, this going into the evening and Benji's health.

Though, she was pretty sure that as soon as Benji and Emmy decided they wanted to play wainwright too – that Trevor would be diverting Leo to something else. Maybe taking him over to the playground, which might just draw Benji and Emmy to finally follow over that way too, which also might not be a bad thing. Though, she didn't think Trevor would mind. Olivia thought the distance Trevor had right now likely had more to do with some kind of tension between Alex and Langdon than it did any sort of comment on the energy levels of her kids. She'd definitely caught some body language and barely muffled curtness when Alex had gone down to the stream to inform Trevor she was taking a walk over to the farmer's market on the opposite side of the park. Olivia definitely got the sense that it might not have been an unexpected commitment that popped up for Trevor's brother that freed up the tickets her family had snagged.

But Olivia let her hand drift down Brian's back and settle into the back pocket of his jeans directing her attention back to their own show – rather than Alex and Langdon's. And also trying to ignore the way Alex had come back up the stairs and was now standing off behind them with her arms crossed, simmering while she waited for Olivia.

"I'm going to go over to the market with Alex while they're distracted," she said a bit more directly – who still as quietly.

Brian made a sound of acknowledgement but didn't offer anything more. He wouldn't – unless he had wanted to get a chance to walk around the market too. But that'd be hit and miss with him. He liked the familiar – their markets, their shops. Where he knew the vendors and what he wanted and he could still get in and out of there pretty quick even if he had the kids in tow. And, besides, he'd know it was more about getting a few minutes to catch up with Alex than it was about picking up some vegetables for the next few days.

"Anything you want me to keep an eye out for?" she asked.

"Nothing any of us should have," he muttered.

She smiled a bit at that against his shoulder and placed a light kiss there. "I'll keep an eye out for something we can all have," she said instead. "Guilt free."

Brian made a slightly amused sound and she backed away from him a bit, looping her camera off from around her arm and neck. "Hold onto this for me?"

He nodded and took it from her, looping the strap around his hand several times. She knew he likely wasn't going to take any pictures for her. But she also was unlikely to take any photos in the market. So it was better to take the break from carrying it around. Olivia was sure she'd have it in her hands for a lot of the rest of the day. Benji had already spotted the local fire station on the way into town and shrieked at them, "THEIR TRUCKS ARE ORANGE! MOM! LIKE PUMPKINS! LIKE HALLOWEEN! WE HAFTA STOP! WE HAFTA TO SEE IF THEY HAVE A PATCH! OR A TSHIRT! WE NEED A PICTURE! LOOK! MOM! THEY'RE SO AWESOME! MOM! IT'S LIKE EPIC! MOM! LOOK!"

So she'd looked and appropriately 'oohed' and 'ahhed' about trucks. And then she'd promised they'd stop after their stretch at park on their way to really kicking off their Halloween activities at some of the local historic estates before getting to their Jack-o-Lantern Blaze timeslot.

"I won't be long," she promised – she hoped. She could feel Alex simmering a bit and could feel a potential vent session in the offing. God knew she had her own stories to vent too.

"OK," Brian allowed and actually did turn. He met her – found her – for a brief peck of a kiss. It more brushed by the corner of her mouth and her cheek than anything. But it still earned him a little smile. A bigger one when his hand found hers as she removed it from his back pocket. And then he kept a hold of it as she moved away – keeping her eyes and giving her a bigger smile until their fingers slipped apart and even then he still watched her for a few long beats until she was almost to Alex. Then his eyes drifted back to watching the kids.

"Aren't you two cute," Alex mouthed at her, with a raised eyebrow that screamed sarcasm. "Honeymoon phase or is this an afterglow that's still going at almost noon?"

Olivia gave her eyebrow a little rub at that and started the walk across the park to where they'd seen a local Farmer's and Artisan Market set up when they'd turned into the parking lot. They'd favored a spot closer to the playgrounds and picnic tables than the market. But it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to walk back to the tables and tents they'd seen set up.

"Brian's mom had the kids last night," she confirmed.

"Ahh …," Alex said and trudged beside her. She still had her arms wrapped tightly around her.

"Belated birthday dinner," Olivia provided. "Janet offered to just keep the kids over."

Alex gave her a little glance. "See, whatever you say things like that, I think, 'Man, I need to get in on that.' Then I have my mother or his mother," and her head jutted back with minor disgust to where Trevor was, "into town and I realize they stay with us and just don't leave for days while providing endless commentary on my parenting, cooking and cleaning."

Olivia gave her a wryly grin. She wouldn't say that having a mother-in-law who lived within walking distance was a huge improvement. Though, she supposed they at least had somewhere to send Janet back to. It just sometimes could take hours for her to take the hint. "Trade-offs to both arrangements, I guess," she said.

Alex made a small sound at that. "Where'd he take you?"

"Misi," Olivia allowed.

Alex gave her another little glance. "That's supposed to be good." But there was a question to the statement.

Olivia shrugged and pulled her own sweater a bit tighter around her. They were definitely at the point you could feel the fall in the air. And they were right on the water. She was glad she had some extra layers in the car too. If it was this cold in the middle of the day she was definitely going to need to add a jacket, beanie and gloves for their tromp through the lit-up pumpkin trail after dark.

"It was the kind of place that I would've loved about twenty years ago," she said. "We felt a little old and the setting felt a little hyped."

"Ah …," Alex acknowledged. "How was the food, though?"

And it earned another shrug. "I've had better Italian."

"Sounds like a pretty lacklustre meal for all these afterglow vibes you're radiating," Alex muttered.

Olivia allowed a minor amused noise at that. "It was nice. Very sharable. Fresh. Beautiful views of the city."

She could say more. She could tell Alex that she'd requested the spot – not Brian. And she really hadn't wanted to go back into the city so trying a place in Brooklyn that they'd seen long lines outside of while they trekked their kids to and from nearby parks had seemed reasonable. That she'd purposely picked an early sitting because she knew they were both exhausted. But it wasn't often that her and Brian actually got a date night – dinner alone and outside the house so she'd taken advantage of the opportunity.

She could tell Alex that the wine list had been good and paired well with their meal. That maybe her and Brian had both had a bit more than they should've. Because they'd both been a little buzzed and a little sloppy by the time they'd gotten home. But that that sloppiness had fizzled out because Brian hadn't been able to get erect. Whether that was the wine or fatigue or something he'd brought home with him from work or Benji's health or being a parent or being a spouse or something from his past – or a combination of all of the above – he hadn't verbalized. So they'd still tried for a while – that he'd let her touch him and try to help. But that had barely started before he'd pulled away from her – and her hands away from him – and told her he needed to stop. And been embarrassed and apologetic and mad at himself and frustrated – triggered and cycling through emotions. Until she'd bluntly told him to stop and calm and to come and watch TV with her instead.

And they had. And they had talked – quietly and extensively and intermittently. That she liked those moments of intimacy with him almost as much. They'd talked and stared at the TV until at least she'd fallen asleep. And at some point in the wee hours they'd gone back up stairs and crawled into bed and without trying – they're tried again. And it'd worked. And worked again a few hours later after another nap and before they had to get up and cleaned up and go to retrieve the kids. So the afterglow wasn't from that long ago. And Olivia suspected that it more had to do with the moments of quiet connection she'd had with her partner – her husband – than it did with the pleasurable outcome they'd both eventually reached.

"Noticing some body language going on between you and Trevor too …," Olivia said.

Alex exhaled a bit. "That obvious?"

Olivia raised her eyebrow.

And Alex rolled her eyes a bit. "He's working a lot of hours," she grumbled. "For one client. I feel like he's more married to this client – who I'm not too thrilled about - and the case and the job than me."

"I've been there," Olivia allowed.

"I don't know how you and Brian do it sometimes …," Alex muttered.

"Ahh …," Olivia said with a shake of her head. Sometimes she wondered too. And a lot of other times – they didn't. They had these fights and arguments and moments too. They still did. The push and shove and give and take. The constant negotiation of parenthood and the relationship and the job.

"When you're married to the job for so long. To then … I don't know," Alex said.

"The case will wrap eventually, Alex. They all do."

"Only then I'll be working all hours to make up for the lost time at my job," she said. "Or to make a point."

Olivia glanced at her again. "What point's that?"

"That I'm not a single mother," Alex muttered, as they got into the first stalls at the market and she immediately started gazing at the jewellery on display just to have something to stare at.

Olivia sighed a little at that and stared at her friend.

"That I can be a mother, and a wife, and still hold down a full-time job out in the world. The real world," Alex added.

Olivia exhaled and then moved to look at the jewellery too. It was nice. Though, more her style than Alex's. Actually – some of it was very much Emmy's style. The little girl would be transfixed by the rocks and gems and stones and beads. She always was. Emily loved making necklaces and bracelets or all types.

"I've been there too," Olivia allowed.

"Only Leo was born into a nuclear family after his father insisted and insisted and _insisted_ that was what he wanted for his son," Alex muttered and then rolled her eyes. "Born in wedlock."

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow again, not quite sure how to respond to that. That wasn't exactly how she remembered Alex's surprise pregnancy and the proposal happening. Or the courtship leading up to it either. But it wasn't the time to point that out.

"He keeps pressing lately that Leo should have a sibling," Alex said more quietly and then slinking to the next table, leaving Olivia to follow. "The adoption."

"Mmm …," Olivia allowed.

They'd talked about that before – but it'd been a while since Alex had brought it up. But their time together to chat and catch-up and have some other touchstone in their life besides their men, their children and their jobs seemed to be less and less anymore. Likely because of their men, their children and their jobs – and the various necessities and time all those commitments involved.

Alex's first pregnancy had come as enough of a surprise. Between being in her forties and years of endometriosis, Alex really hadn't had the expectation she'd ever conceived. Especially at that point in her life. But sometimes life just happens the way it wants to – and your expectations or plans have very little to do with it.

But it hadn't been an easy pregnancy for her friend. Navigating her relationship with Trevor and the role he'd have in the baby's life had been enough of a proposition. But between her age and her medical condition – she had been a high risk pregnancy. And it had certainly proven to be as much. It'd ended with Alex having placenta previa – resulting in a rupture that lead to an emergency surgery that had luckily saved her and Leo. But it'd also ended with a complete hysterectomy. So beyond navigating a new marriage and a new baby, Alex had also navigated major surgery, changed body image; changes in definition of womanhood on multiple levels.

Olivia liked to think that Alex had mostly weathered the changes and transitions. But she also should've known – did know – that Alex was intensely private. This wasn't the first time that she would've sheltered her – or herself – from having to discuss profoundly upsetting and unsettling moments in her life. Because she didn't know what to say and she didn't want to think about it or dwell on those times or memories. Olivia could appreciate that on some level. And, she supposed, she thought that things were mostly working out. Alex and Trevor were still together. The last time she'd heard they were still talking about adding to their family by adoption. And apparently it was still being brought up now – which Olivia hoped was a good sign and not some faint-hope effort to pull the family together for another period of time.

"It's a long and intrusive process," Olivia provided. "Even when you have a good attorney helping you along."

It got a weak smile from Alex but she went back to examining the crates and crates of apples in front of them. Picking them up and examining them. Olivia did too. They were end of season pickings. But to use them as cooking apples to get another batch or two of apple crisp or some apple sauce in might not be so bad.

"And why bother," Alex mumbled in a tone that was much closer to a grumble now. "When he's never around. When I'm telling him I feel like a single mother. When right now I'm not even really sure how much I like being a mother. Or even like Leo."

Olivia tilted her head at her – sadly and apologetically. They clearly hadn't been checking in enough. "You love Leo."

"I love him," Alex acknowledged. "But I'm not sure how much I like him right now. I'm not sure how much he likes me. It's Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. All the time he wants Daddy. And Daddy's never home. Daddy gets to show up at bedtime and be the voice of nighttime stories and the one who tucks him in. He doesn't get to be the bad guy all day, all night. Every day."

Olivia gave her another little sigh. "That goes through phases too, Alex. Soon it will be Trevor's turn."

"Only it won't be," Alex said, "because he lets Leo get away with everything. His father was so strict with him so Daddy just has no rules."

Olivia tilted her head again. That wasn't exactly true. They both knew that. But she'd always seen that Trevor Langdon was a bit of a soft touch.

"He's driving me crazy," Alex muttered at her.

"Which one?" Olivia asked, packing some apples into a paper bag and holding out some cash to the woman at the stand.

"Both of them," Alex said with some exasperation. "And keep thinking you were doing this on your own when Ben was four."

"Not exactly," she said and gave her friend a weak smile. "I had help. You do too."

Alex sighed at that. And snagged a bag of her own – following suit – and handing some cash over too.

"I don't know how much help I was," Alex said.

"You were," Olivia assured – even though she knew that Alex wasn't in the mode to listen or believe her in that moment.

"I do know I remember Ben being … a handful," she said instead.

Olivia shrugged a bit as they moved to the next table. It was jams and preserves and spreads and jellies. All natural. Some without any sugar. She picked up some of the bottles to examine. That might be a nice treat in their house with how they'd cut back on sugars – and the complications that had caused in quick-and-easy school day breakfasts.

"I think that's just four," Olivia said. "Look at Brian's big plan of being a stay-at-home Dad in his retired life. That decision was quickly reversed in Emmy's fourth year on Earth."

It got a slightly amused noise out of Alex. And Olivia gave her a small smile.

"It gets better," she tried to assure.

"Does it?" Alex put back to her.

"Six and eleven are a lot of fun …," Olivia offered – even though she knew that wasn't the point that Alex was getting at.

Instead Alex gazed back across the park. It looked like maybe everyone had moved over to the playground at that point. But they were far enough away it was hard to make out all the different figures. There was at least one other family playing there now too.

"He looks good today …?" Alex provided – but really asked. "He's not tired from his sleepover?"

Olivia shook her head. "Every time we have them at Janet's for an overnight I'm convinced if we just let them sleep in sleeping bags in the living room every night bedtime would go about ten-times easier."

Alex smiled a bit at that and gazed at one of the jams too. "But you have rules."

"So many rules," she acknowledged. "He'll still fade a bit around two. He always seems to need a bit of a rest in the afternoon."

"Do we need to position ourselves somewhere so he can … nap?" Alex asked.

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow again and shook her head. "We'll likely be over at Sunnyside by then. We might try to time it so we're watching the puppet show around his lull. And, if not, he's very good at finding me or Brian to flop against – even if he won't tell us he's tired. One of us will just take him to a bench or back to the car to rest for a bit. He's gotten really good at twenty-thirty minute power naps. I wish I could still pull of that and bounce back as charged as he does."

Olivia held the jar of raspberry spread. "How much for the jams?" she asked the teenager behind the table.

"Eight dollars," the kid told her.

She nodded. "The fruit butters too?"

"Yea," the kid said.

She browsed a bit more. It wasn't a bad price but it was more than she was willing to spend to get two or three kinds at once and she was having difficulty picking one that she thought everyone would enjoy. Though, if they were all enjoying it, it'd likely be gone pretty quick. Maybe it would be best to pick up two different kinds. She picked up a peach butter and looked at it instead. Alex did too.

"Sugar-free jams?" she asked speculatively.

Olivia just gave her an amused acknowledgement. "The Lupus diet."

"Well, it's got Brian looking great. I can see the cause for an extended afterglow. He has really trimmed out."

Olivia hummed an acknowledgement and held up two jars at the kid – and a twenty. "Do you have a bag?" she asked and then looked back to Alex as she waited for the kid to pack the jams and retrieve her change. "He's started going to the gym on his lunch again. When he can get them. Tries to ride into work a couple times a week."

"And what's your trick?" Alex said. "Because you're looking fantastic too."

Olivia took the bag and the one-dollar bills back from the kid. "The silver-lining of lupus," she said flippantly. Her and Brian absolutely acknowledged that it'd been a wake up call for both of them on maintain their health and getting back on track with their own exercise and diet for the sake of the whole family too. They were all seeing some benefits come out of that – despite the challenges of it. "I've been using a trainer," she allowed, though. "But, it's really comes down to diet. Which I'm likely going to shatter any illusions of for you – because this place supposedly had a great gluten-free and allergy-friendly baked goods table. And with my kids, you can't venture into a Farmer's Market without retrieving giant pickles for them to gnaw on."

Alex allowed her a smile. "That's good – because I was afraid you were going to look down on the cider donuts order I got from my guys."

"Oh," Olivia said. "I am hoping that this baked goods stand has the gluten-free version of that too."

"Can't you get a lot of this from Elaine?" Alex asked as Olivia stopped to look at a display of squashes. Somehow their family had fallen deep into a squash phase. The kids just ate it up and it was so quick and ease to prepare. "Her son's farm?"

"Ahh …," she said, examining a buttercup squash and making a decision on if she felt like carrying it around with her for the rest of this shopping expedition. "Well, it's a small operation for a lot of this kind of produce. But Elaine brings us some things now and then. We haven't gone out that way in a while. Benji triggered last time. I don't think he even realized he had or was. He just started clinging to me, and shaking. I think it was the smell. He was OK and then he just wasn't."

"I take it no pumpkin patch this year then?" Alex asked.

"We haven't done that yet," Olivia acknowledged, putting the squash back down. "The kids have both been asking about it, though. Maybe next weekend."

"Next weekend is pretty much your last chance," Alex said.

Olivia allowed a little amused sound and looked at her with a shrug of acknowledgement. "We do a lot of play it by ear anymore."

"Tomorrow?" Alex offered. "If Ben survives the night?"

Olivia shook her head. "Emmy has a Mad Science birthday slash Halloween party tomorrow – that she's very excited about. It's the first time she's been invited to something that Benji's feeling pretty … envious about."

"Mmm …," Alex acknowledged. "That's likely understandable. I'm sure Emily hasn't shut up about it."

Olivia let out an amused sound and rubbed at her eyebrow again – staring at the bottles of cider now. She was really tempted to get that for a treat in the house. But it was another thing she knew would disappear in an instant.

"I'm trying to convince him that Mommy-Son Day is just as exciting."

"Seeing as that's a tough sell to Leo at four, I can't imagine convincing an eleven-year-old of the plausibility of that statement," Alex said.

Olivia gave her a quiet smile. "He'll be tired after tonight anyway," she provided quietly.

She thought her and Benji would likely just maybe manage their usual Sunday routine of a café and the library and an afternoon movie. Emmy and Brian would only be gone a couple hours anyway. And they had a lot more Halloween movies to pick through before the 31st too. At the rate they were going they were likely still going to be watching family-friendly spooky films right up to Thanksgiving and then switch right into Christmas flicks.

"I noticed no Jack today," Alex stated.

"Nope," Olivia put flatly and moved on to the next vendor. They were clearly into a condiment section – honey, infused oils and salad dressings, maple syrups, mustards. It was all temping. They usually steered clear of those vendors – and impulse buys – at their markets where they were familiar with the layouts and locations of what they where looking for.

"Still?" Alex pressed.

Olivia made a little exasperated sound and shrugged. "I haven't seen him in … almost two weeks. Have you?"

Alex made a little sound at that and Olivia looked at her. She'd wrapped her arms around herself again – looking a little peeved.

"What?" Olivia asked.

"He was over earlier in the week," she said.

"OK …?" Olivia asked. Jack spending time with Alex – and Leo and Trevor – wasn't uncommon.

"He wanted to know if I'd be a co-signer on a lease agreement for an apartment," Alex said.

"What?!" Olivia said more forcibly. "Where?"

"The Upper West Side," Alex said directly. "Maybe a little closer to us than I'd like."

Olivia pulled at her chin and stared at the sky, processing that. She shook her head.

"Trevor went and looked at it with him," Alex added and gestured back over to the playground again. "Which is definitely much more involved than I'd like."

Olivia exhaled and shook her head. "Trevor didn't sign anything for him?"

Alex shook her head hard. "No. But he feels that we should – 'if you and Brian aren't in a position to help him out with that'. Which is also something he seems to feel he should bring up at some point tonight."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Us not being in a position to 'help him out' is not the problem here."

"I am quite aware of that," Alex said. "Trevor is …" and she exasperatedly shook her head. "Being the hero … again … "

"That is not what Jack needs," Olivia muttered. She hoped that Trevor didn't decide to bring that up with Brian while they were over here.

"Also aware of that," Alex said.

Olivia sighed. "I'm sorry he's trying to drag you into his – and our family – drama."

Alex just shrugged and picked up the bottle of cider that Olivia had passed over. "What's family for if not to be part of the group's drama …," she muttered.


	15. Right Balance

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

Olivia startled a bit at the sudden reappearance of her little boy. Or rather, she startled at the way he almost flew on top of her – easily vaulting over the armrest of the comfy chair she'd found off in the corner to wait for him.

Benji slid down the edge of the armrest and into her lap, causing her to rearrange her book and mocha before he sent either of them flying. And Olivia ultimately had to rearrange herself a bit – inching over to create some space for him on the cushion rather than having those still sharp little ass-bones in his butt cheeks digging into her thighs. But Benji didn't really notice or care she'd offered him the extra space. He still plopped himself onto her as he pleased, curling into her and resting his head against her shoulder like they might as well have been on their own living room couch.

Though, she supposed this quiet corner hidden off in the neighborhood Barnes & Noble that they frequented more than she would've thought humanly possible, pretty much almost constituted their living room in a way. It was likely partially because the Transit Museum was basically its neighbor – and a high rotation 'indoor playground' on their list of 'get-out-of-the-house escapes' for rainy weekends and winter months. But the store – and that chair within it – had definitely become their spot. She'd had more than one kid huddled in her lap in that chair the past few years, reading the merchandise to them in hushed tones before they made their big purchase.

Even though Benji's slight (and often pale and frail looking) size still left most people pegging him around eight, Olivia knew that some passer-bys might think her son looked a little old to be curled in her lap like that – in public. Benji, himself, might be mortified if someone from school or his sports teams caught him in that position. But he also might not even notice. Not that day.

Despite her son's eagerness to get out of the house – to do something – while his little sister was off at her much anticipated party outing, Olivia could tell he was tired. He'd had two busy and later than normal nights for him. At sleepover at Gramma's and adventures in Sleepy Hollow was really more than enough to fill a weekend. But the kids really had had a good time; they all did. Olivia was glad they'd gone despite her and Brian's initial hesitation about two later nights.

Benji and Emmy had just eaten up the activities at Washington Irving's Estate and the through the nearby woods, cemetery and rather creepy historic church. They were at a good age for it. Olivia didn't think that Leo had taken as much out of it. But Alex had likely been being a little overly hopeful about a four-year-old enjoying most of the activities – at least in a way, and at a level, that let his Mom and Dad enjoy the explorations too.

But Benji and Emmy had galloped along after their interpreter in period custom carrying a lantern despite their afternoon tour slot. They'd peppered the poor woman with endless questions from everything about how the kerosene lantern worked to what each and every stone remains were from to if the cemetery was haunted and if the Headless Horseman was real or just something imagined by Ichabod Crane since he was 'a real big scaredy-cat with a BERY OVER-ACT-IVE E-MAG-GIN-NATION!', according to Emily. It'd actually been hilarious perfect timing for the question, because at near the exact moment another character actor in full-body costume galloped by on a horse – clearly headless – seemingly confirming that the Horseman was real. Her kids had stood wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the sight. Leo on the other hand – unfamiliar with the story and apparently not even versed in the Disney or Scobby-Doo version of it in pre-trip preparations – had been terrified and had pretty much had Trevor carrying him around for the rest of the afternoon. Though, Olivia supposed that given what her and Alex had chatted about before, it had given her a bit of a break.

Benji and Emmy had loved tearing around the old historic cemetery – more than likely waking the dead for their evening haunt – on a scavenger hunt. Olivia wasn't sure how she felt about the cemetery being the scavenger hunt location but it did mean the kids were spotting all the famous names for them – along with strange carvings and unique epitaphs on the headstones. And Leo was loving zigging-and-zagging between the rows and rows of tombstones with his 'cousins'. And maybe their was something to be said about there still being life in a graveyard – the laughter and joy and energy of children.

Beniji and Emmy had also loved getting to try out "old-in time' games (which her and Brian were promptly questioned on if they had played with similar wood and string and cornhusk and fabric scrap toys and games in the apparent pioneer era they had grown up in. They'd instead told them they should ask their Captain or Gramma or Unkie Munchie about what childhood looked like 'that looooooong time ago').

They'd loved even more getting to paint and decorate little gourd pumpkins at Sunnyside even more. Put her kids in front of an arts and craft table – provide them with paint and glue – and you could lose them to creativity for a good ninety minutes of quiet. And they were the right age for that too. They didn't need or want a lot of help. Mommy and Daddy just messed things up diverging from their vision. Leo wasn't quite there yet. He'd watched Benji and Emmy carefully and tried to copy but Trevor had definitely been helping him out. And Alex looked content to sit and work on her own gourd too. Though hers had looked more like it could be a centerpiece on their Thanksgiving spread than a spooky, demented Halloween decoration for the stoop or the front window on the 31st.

Olivia instead used the time the kids were distracted to move back through the Washington Irving's house, looking at some of the family artifacts and displays about the writer and his family. The kids had breezed through the building without much interest. It definitely wasn't the kind of museum to hold their interest quite yet. It hadn't been one that really held Brian's either. When she'd wandered back to the craft room, she'd told him she could take over supervision and he could go look, if he wanted. But Brian just shrugged it off. But she was hard pressed to find a museum or exhibit that Brian had much interest in. It was more he tolerated them for the sake of the kids. Museums weren't ever going to be somewhere he took her for a date night. Though, maybe he was getting there. He'd surprised her with the daytrip to the Storm King Art Center to view its modernistic sculptures for her birthday. But that hit on a lot of Brian's happy places – a drive where he wasn't caught crawling in city traffic, the mountains, the outdoors and taking the bikes out. So it was another reasonable compromise that had made a really nice Saturday of family time – something they were trying to be much more purposeful with lately. To slow down and enjoy – to take the time and make the time. To not just have weekends be for recoup and errands and chores and homework and cleaning. To live.

They had managed to get to the shadow puppet show of the Legend of Sleepy Hollow. As expected, Benji was waning a bit by then and had spent most of the show leaned right up against her. Emily and Leo had occupied their respective Dads' laps in an effort to make space for everyone in the cramped little theater. But even with the close-knit seating arrangement for the mid-afternoon viewing, all three kids had sat completely transfixed by the paper puppets and their articulated movements along with the retelling of the tale to them again. Her kids had been eager to participate in the activity to make their own paper puppets after the show. Though, after Alex had given the set-up table a cursory glance, she'd clearly decided it was beyond Leo's capabilities or her patience with scissors. So they'd separated for a bit.

Benji and Emmy had both insisted on making the Headless Horseman cut-outs, despite Olivia suggesting maybe one of them should do Ichabod so they could actually put on their own puppet show at home. But apparently that didn't make much sense. Alex had made a good call in skipping the activity with Leo. Both Benji and Emmy still weren't great with scissors – but both of her kids could be perfectionists (she didn't know where they got that from …). So there'd been some afternoon-tireds meltdowns bubbling to the surface and both her and Brian had ended up having to help trim each pattern piece just so for them and then smooth out the pieces of paper when they a little too violently couldn't seem to manage to get the brass fasteners through the joint points without crumbling and tearing the things. Thankfully there was Scotch tape on the table too. It was supposed to be for taping the popsicle sticks to the finished products – but there were a lot of other parents having to try to salvage the managed puppets without having to start the project again. Needless to say the fragile puppets they left the table with didn't look anything like the ones in the show they'd watched.

They'd found Alex's family having a snack at the concession stand when they were FINALLY done. Though, it was Olivia's turn to steer the kids clear of that because she really doubted they'd have anything there that Benji would have and she didn't want to deal with the more whining as fatigue really started to set in. Though, where they'd picked for dinner in the sleepy little town hadn't offered much better. The décor – and its depiction of Washington Irving's characters and other great American others – was fantastic. It might as well have felt like they were sitting in the reading room of one of Edgar Allan Poe's characters – or the Haunted Mansion. The kids had a great time gazing all around and pointing at all the Halloween and Sleepy Hollow and Headless Horseman 'Easter Eggs' (that weren't really hidden at all) they were spotting and the odd paints and taxidermy and skulls and relics and antiques on display. But the menu left something to be desired given their current restrictions with Benji's health. In their previous lives – life pre-lupus – it likely would've been a place they wouldn't have thought twice about taking the kids and Brian would've loved the chance for a burger and beer.

As it was, though, they'd sat discussing the menu – and speaking to the waitress and the chef – for some time. Alex had even apologized and asked if they should try somewhere else. But Olivia had brushed off that suggestion. She really didn't think that they'd find too many options in the town that ticked-off all of Benji's needs. Right now it was a bit of a challenge eating out with him even in New York. She just hoped it would be better after his round of IgIV and there was an improvement in some of his test numbers, which would take them out of the inflammation woods and flare territory and allow them to have a bit more leniency with his diet at least for the moment.

They'd eventually hodge-podged a salad and roasted half-chicken with a couple sides together to eat family-style – with the chef's assurances that there'd be no garlic, onion, tomatoes, soy or gluten in their servings.

"You're putting us to shame," Trevor had commented after they'd ordered more traditional colonial-inspired American pub fare.

But Olivia had only shaken her head and held up a hand in apology but didn't provide comment. They tried not to say anything negative about the diet – or event acknowledge it was restricted in an abnormal way right now – in front of Benji. They were trying to normalize it as best they could. To make it a non-issue for their family. And to just acknowledge the reality that even though some of the restrictions would relax there were going to be some foods that their son would have to avoid for the rest of his life if he wanted to be diligent about managing – and avoiding – symptom flares. Until he was eighteen – and still living at home – they'd be at least maintaining those restrictions. They'd be smart about it. They'd normalize it for him until it was habit. They'd educate him. Help him learn how to manage it. That was their job.

And they did let him have a treat when they boarded their 'haunted' hay ride out to the location of the Jack-o-Lantern Blaze. The kids had happily sipped at their hot ciders on the wagon while her and Brian tried out the pumpkin ale. Neither of them were too sure about it. And the kids weren't too sure about the hayride, which went back past a lot of the spots they'd already been to that day with the add-on of a couple new locations they hadn't explored that were on Ichabod's famous ride of fright – or flight – from the Headless Horseman. Though, despite some whines about how long and 'boring' the ride was, the kids did recognize and point out some spots from the Disney cartoon.

The actual Blaze was amazing. Though, Olivia was definitely glad that Trevor had snagged the earliest timeslot back months' ago when the tickets first released. They'd been sent into the trail with a largest crowded and then they were leaving a couple hours later the place was definitely packed. But it'd been worth the trip. The 5,000 carvings and the sculptures – and whole scenes – they'd been used to create were astonishing. Unfortunately, her photographic skills in low-light were not astonishing so a lot of her pictures hadn't really turned out. Brian had had much better luck just taking shots using his phone.

Neither Benji or Emmy did particularly well in the dark – especially Benji. So they both stayed close, which Olivia was grateful for. There was still enough light between the lanterns and neighboring buildings and tents – and the glowing pumpkins themselves, but with the crowds and the time of night it would've be easy enough to lose sight of them if they'd been charging ahead like in their cemetery tour. The kids had been particularly taken with the dinosaur and dragons displays and just awed by the arched tunnel with pumpkins surrounding them over, above and side-to-side. Though, some of the other sculptures were a bit more intimidating – a giant spider and witches around a smoking cauldron. Little Leo had either played scared or really was scared – and Trevor had ended up carrying him through much of the weaving trail. Emmy had caught onto that while they were watching the light-and-sound show (which actually was a little spooky with its dry ice and smoke machines doing) in front of the property's historic mansion. She'd decided she wanted her Daddy to carry her the rest of the way too. But Olivia was pretty sure that had more to do with tired feet and a lagging little girl than any kind of fear factor.

Overall, it was a good day – a really fun day and a really unique evening. It was the kind of fall activity that Olivia had heard about for years but it had always seemed like a family event – something you took kids to – so she'd never gone. Just like so many other things. And then despite years of having a family of her own now, it was one of those things that required the kind of planning that her and Brian were just working at getting better at and more organized and purposeful about. And, really, watching how Leo did that day, she thought with this particular activity they'd made the right choice in waiting until the kids were a bit older. She felt fairly certain that overall, Benji and Emmy had taken more out of the evening than Leo had. And she was pretty sure that her and Brian got to have a slightly more relaxing and laidback outing than Alex and Trevor too.

It'd been enough of a daytrip and night-time activity for the kids even a six and eleven. The two of them had readily passed out in the car and slept for the entire drive back into the city. They were still so zonked out when they'd gotten back to the house, Brian had double-parked so they could just carry the kids in and straight up to bed. They'd miraculously gotten them both upstairs, semi-changed and tucked in without them waking and they hadn't heard a peep out of them through the night. Not even needing the bathroom checked for monsters before they went pee. Clearly it was an indication that an occasional night with Gramma followed by a Saturday activity was a good way to completely get their kids down for a solid count.

One that was continuing that morning despite Benji's attempt to show-up his sister in their Mommy-Son Day. He was still tired. Olivia could see it. And when her little boy fatigued, he got sucky and cuddly.

It was just like when he wasn't feeling well. Or when he was getting overly reflective off in that little head of his that he often only gave her glimpse into – even though she could see his mind churning and churning. But Olivia had grown used – maybe she'd grown to need, too, in a way – to this reintroduced need for affection and comfort at quite this level.

Her little boy – her tween who didn't quite seem like one for all the warnings she'd been given about the years she had ahead of her in that transitional period between child and teenager – had moved back to wanting more and more to be held. Just like when he'd first come home and it'd become so grossly apparent he'd lacked that physical affection and connection and comfort in his life. Now he reached for her – and Daddy, and even Ducky – regularly. At the hospital, on the couch, for extended goodnight tuck-ins and lingering goodbye hugs before school and excited 'you're home' arrival greetings.

But it wasn't like Olivia didn't like those things – though sometimes she felt a strange guilt in knowing they were re-emerging as part of Benji processing and coping with his health; his desire for comfort and care from it all. Then it made her feel oddly bad about enjoying the hugs and cuddles and quiet time with her son. It was an upsetting and strange conflict that she was still trying to find her own way to work through. To find the right balance.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**This scene and conversation will be continued in the next chapter. It will likely be posted later today. So please check again — as it might not alert or bump with two updates in less than 24 hours.**


	16. Baggage

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

*****THE CHAPTER PRIOR TO THIS WAS ADDED LESS THAN 24 HOURS AGO. PLEASE GO BACK AND MAKE SURE YOU DIDN'T MISS IT.******

"Look what I got," Benji told Olivia and held out a little card at her.

Olivia took it from him and examined the four dollar off Starbucks coupon that wasn't likely to get anything much – and nothing without it being accompanied by another order, according to the fine print. Though, she was sure he'd be asking to get a tea or a hot chocolate as they left because of the prize.

"Whoa," she mouthed, resting her forehead against his as he took the slip of paper back from her and stared down at it. "Did you win it?"

Benji nodded against her. "Sorta," he mumbled and then flopped his head back onto to the upper edge of the back of the chair and gazed at her. "Everyone got one if they finished the scavenger hunt and solved the secret code."

"And you finished the scavenger hunt and solved the secret code?" she smiled gently at him.

Olivia had left him over at the big Rick Riordan event over in the children's section of the store. Apparently the author had a new book coming out and they were celebrating all things in Greek mythology and the Apollo universe to mark the release in a Demigod Day at the bookstore.

"Yea," Benji acknowledged and gazed at his ticket again.

"What was the code?" she asked.

He shrugged a little. "Oracle of Delphi," he muttered. "But it wasn't hard to figure out. It was just the Greek alphabet. They gave us the cipher," he added, finger at the workbook he'd come back with too.

Olivia smiled and shook her head more at herself than him. Her kids – knew what the Oracle of Delphi was, knew there was a Greek alphabet and also didn't just know what a cipher was – but how to use them. And knew the order itself. She was raising unique – smart – little human beings. Sometimes they said things that reminded her that she was doing something right. Benji and Emily were a whole lot of what she was doing right. And she was so glad to have that reminder in her daily life.

She took the little workbook off his lap and gave it a little browse. It was a nice workbook. They clearly hadn't scrimped on it. But the publisher for Riordan's books was owned by Disney these days. What wasn't? Still she made some mental notes about which activities in the book Benji had and hadn't completed. A lot of the pages were pretty text-heavy and those had been skipped over while mazes and code breaking and sketching activities had been favored. But she'd take a better look at it later. It might be something they could work on together as something a bit more fun and engaging than his usual English and Language Arts homework.

"Mmm …," Olivia said, as she set the book back down. "That makes sense. Doesn't the Oracle tell riddles?"

He stared at her. "Sorta," he said – with a tone that said she was clearly wrong. And she smiled at that. Maybe she was testing him a bit too. "She tells prophecies. But all cryptic like. To Apollo. And the new books are all about Apollo. They read us the first chapter."

"Mmm … So was the prophecy that you should all run over and get Mom to buy the new book?" she teased.

"Mom …," he huffed at her a bit for her silliness.

But she smiled a little at him and suck out her tongue. He stuck his right back at her – shaking his head a little in the movement and then pointing his tongue tip upward until it was almost at the tip of his nose and he was pretty much going cross-eyed. She laughed and gave him a light little swat to get him to stop. He did but he just twinkled some more at her.

Her little boy. He still made her laugh so much. He still had so much silly energy in him. So much joy. He brought her so much joy.

Benji slipped a bookmark out of the cover of the workbook and held it at her. "They gave us a coupon for that too," he confirmed.

Olivia snorted a bit – not surprised in the least. But she still took it to see. It was for a whooping 20% off, which would amount to all of about $2 likely.

"This one's better," Benji said, wagging the Starbucks coupon at her again; though he likely hadn't done the math. "Can I getta green tea latte?"

Olivia smiled a little more. She knew that was coming. And because – again – she had a tween who wanted a green tea latte. She couldn't imagine wanting or asking for that at eleven – or even knowing what it was. But she supposed she wasn't a 21st century New York kid.

"On our way out," she said and deflected, "Did you have fun?"

Olivia had actually read the event calendar online wrong so she'd been vaguely concerned that Benji wouldn't report back positively – that this outing wouldn't have satisfied his FOMOs he was having that morning.

She'd told her little boy that it was a Batman 80th anniversary event and there'd be drawing and comic creation going on at the store. She'd clearly been wrong – and Benji had informed her as much. "WRONG" was still one of his favorite words and he'd more than taught it to Emmy too. It was one of their little girl's first words. Though, it'd sounded more like "ONG!" at the start. Saying 'wrong' wrong … or 'ong' … and not wanting to be corrected: that about summed up their daughter's personality and the struggles of parenting her.

But even though it didn't turn out to be a comic book day, Benji didn't seem too disappointed. Apparently Batman – and all things DC Comics – still wasn't his thing. She assumed because Daddy said so. She wasn't clear on the details. She thought it was a little strange because Brian struck her a bit more as a Dark Knight guy. And she thought with the kind of sketching Benji was becoming increasingly talented at, he likely would enjoy the artwork in the much darker DC universe comics from what she'd seen of them. Though, she did understand the how and why her little boy drew parallels to Spiderman and Peter Parker. And it was a much more fun – and gentler – story for children. And that might've been part of Brian's adoption of Marvel as their family 'comic' allegiance. It was just more accessible with the age of the kids – and the Disney-ification of the characters into never-ending media content.

Olivia had thought that Benji might deflect after the idea of a comic book morning had been put in his head and decided he wanted to go to a comic store or art class. But he'd ultimately seemed interested enough in checking out what was going on with the Riordan event. Or more likely he'd seen that they were handing out maps and had puzzles and mind-games set up. That would be an automatic attraction to her son. So she'd left him check out the activities – giving him, and herself, a bit of space.

Olivia had gotten her caffeine and a book, and retreated to their usual spot, knowing that Benji would find her there. And it was close enough that she could still get an unobstructed view from an angled distance back into the children's section and activity room.

She hadn't thought the activities would hold Benji's attention too long – but it'd engaged him longer than she'd expected. But she had seen it looked like that scavenger hunt was all written clues. Still there'd been pictograms on the sheet and on the map so she was confident in his ability to slowly work it out. Her little boy was resourceful. He did the best he could with the skills he had – and he'd self-taught and been taught – a lot of work-arounds to cope with his learning differences. And, besides, when you got down to it - problem solving, puzzle solving and code breaking were Benji's happy place. For all the challenges that his dyslexia did cause, it'd definitely left him seeing patterns and piecing together the confused pieces in a different way than her mind could comprehend.

Beyond that, her little boy was familiar with the Rick Riordan universe, which she was sure would help him along. While her kids had had flagging and only intermittent interest in the Harry Potter series, they'd really latched onto the Percy Jackson books. Maybe it was the New York City setting? Or their familial trips to the Met? Or just the gods and heroes and monsters? But they'd torn through that series as a family really quickly.

It'd worked out for them because now Benji's class was reading the first book of the series as their novel for that 1st term in school. It'd made slogging through some of that English and language homework with him a bit easier. He was already familiar with the story.

Though, it meant they had other challenges in getting him to read some pages each night. Benji felt he'd already 'read' the book despite having had Mommy and Daddy read it to him more than a year ago. So that was a bit of a fight. But it was still likely easier than if they were working with text Benji was just being introduced to for the first time. It was certainly helping with the transition into middle school in that subject at least.

But they hadn't read any of the Apollo books yet. They'd jumped on to the Magnus Chase Norse mythology series and had now started in on the Kane Chronicles and Egyptian mythology. The kids seemed to pretty taken with them. It was definitely adding to the movie list of films they wanted to see and much to Brian's chargin had added an outing request to the Met's immersive Egyptian hall to the list of future family activity ideas.

Though, Brian's saving grace might be that Benji had spotted the last time they were picking up a book that Riordan also did a 'Clue' series of mystery books that he thought he'd like to play detective and puzzle through. But still Olivia thought she might save testing those waters until she was picking a book for him closer to Christmas.

She really could only do so much of these modern children's novels, though she liked that the Riordan books combined relatable tween and adolescence characters in pieces of fiction that also highlighted history, mythology, art and geography in a really fun way that the kids seemed to absorb and internalize and even apply. But it still wasn't the same as the true classics. So she tried to switch it up. Though, more often that meant they had two books on the go and ended up reading multiple chapters every night. Or switching back-and-forth every second night.

"Yea," Benji offered – confirming at least that the morning hadn't been a complete bust. "But I don't think I like Apollo. The chapter the lady read us he was like … extra … being all negative and grouchy and sorta mean to everyone."

"Mmm …," Olivia allowed. "Sounds like someone we know."

Benji gazed at her from where he was still resting his head. "I'm not grouchy. I'm just sorta tired a little."

She gave him a little smile and stroked at the hair on the side of his head. "I know," she assured. "I didn't mean you."

His eyes started a bit while he thought about that. "Peedg …?"

"Mmm …," she allowed again.

She wasn't even sure Benji realized exactly how grumpy Jack was in that exact moment. Though the little boy certainly had a sense of just how … truly awful … his uncle had been being to the family that fall. But Jack had gone and worked at pushing them to another tipping point.

When they'd arrived home last night Jack had been there – unannounced and uninvited. Sitting in the dark in their living room with the television on when they'd come in the door. That sort of behavior – a presence in the house – was enough to trigger some anxiety in both her and Brian. Not that Jack cared – or he absolutely did, because he would've known they both had memories and apprehensions and rituals around that because of what had happened with Lewis. They came into the house in a certain way – especially when it'd been left empty and they were returning after dark. He should've sent them a text to let them know he was there. But that would've been the courtesy, responsible thing to do. And that wasn't Jack lately. Or maybe it never really had been.

He was clearly trying to get a reaction. He clearly knew they had been out and that they'd been with Alex – he'd been invited. And he would've known – or at least suspected – Alex would've told them about the stunt he'd pulled during the week. He'd know they'd be irritated and upset before they even saw him. And instead they got to walk into the house – carrying their sleeping children – with the TV going at a low level and him not even calling out that he was there.

Instead he'd let Brian shuffle them all back out onto the stoop, and prop Benji against the rallying, while she tried to now hold both of the kids while Brian went back into the house to check that everything was in order – that it was just their trauma and anxiety and stress playing with them. That they'd just left the TV on or had accidentally set the timer or maybe the kids had forgotten something at Janet's house and she'd stopped by to drop it off and had touched something that had caused the TV – and god knew what else – to turn on and malfunction. But it'd only been a few seconds before Brian came back out and pulled Benji back up to his chest.

"It's Jack," he'd gravelled so low in his throat it almost sounded like a growl.

Olivia had scrunched her brow at him – processing that and the instant anger and annoyance that bubbled up with the statement. But they'd both gone instead – and hadn't said a thing to him. They'd barely glanced at him – though she could feel him staring at – as they carried the children upstairs and to bed. Brian had just gotten Emmy into bed before heading back downstairs to get their SUV moved and she'd been left to strip off the kids' outer layers of clothing and get them tucked in. And then she'd hestitated on if she was going to go back down – because she certainly didn't want to at that point.

The decision had been made, though, when she'd heard Brian come back into the house and get the front door locked. She'd heard him move to come back up the stairs too but then heard Jack go, "What? I don't even get a 'hi'?"

And she heard Brian's movement pause. She could feel him deciding if he was going to ignore it or not. But he couldn't. His fuse had already been lit hours ago when Trevor had stupidly decided to wade into that topic with them before Olivia had even had the chance to brief Brian on Jack's latest stupidity. Brian's fuse was short – and Jack being there, making that comment, had just poured kerseone all over it.

"You want me to say 'hi' to some guy who's sitting the dark in my house uninvited in the middle of the night?" Brian had hissed at him. "You know how you say 'hi' to a guy doing that? You kick his fucking ass, Jack."

"It's my house too," Jack had muttered.

"It's not your fucking house," Brian had spat back at him.

"Whatever," Jack had muttered again. Olivia could feel the teenaged petulance even from where she'd positioned herself at the top of the stairs.

"Whatever?" Brian had pressed harder. "Yea, fucking whatever. It's all just 'whatever' to you, Jack. What the fuck, Kid?"

And that hung there. Olivia could see Brian's one shoulder. She could tell from his positioning he was engaged in a glaring match with Jack.

"I ask you to watch the kids on Friday – and 'whatever'. No. Can't do that."

"Yea. And I don't know why you keep asking for that kinda service. Like I'm really going to come over and babysit and then hang around while you guys bang …" Jack said flatly.

Olivia could see Brian's head to that cock – that one where you were really cruising at that point. The one that worked with Benji and Emmy – but Jack just refused to take heed of.

"Right," Brian hissed. "Because we're real fucking hang from the rafters people, Jack. And it's a real turn on for us having some sulky, twenty-something prude sitting down here when we're even trying to fucking get some sleep. I don't know what happened to you or what Christina did to you or what kind of headspace that being with Renee has triggered in you – but your preoccupation with mine and Liv's sex life, it's fucked up. And it's just … so fucking ridiculous. It's a fucking diversion, Jack. You know what the issue is here? You show up – unannounced, uninvited – after not showing up to something you were invited to. And why's that? Because you went and fucking talked to Alex about something you should've come to us about first. And then you've got fucking Mr. Upper East Side coming at us – me – like we're some how financially incapable of managing our family life. On the fucking whims of some twenty-five-year-old grown man who can't fucking get his life together and doesn't have the first clue what he wants or is willing to take responsibility for any of his bullshit. And I'm so fucking sick of this bullshit. Your fucking bullshit."

Olivia had sighed and moved down the stairs. Brian glanced back at her. He was flushed with anger. She held up a hand to get him to stop and she moved by him to look squarely at Jack.

"Enough," she hissed at both of them. "If you wake the kids …," she shook her head hard. And then she stared Jack in the eye: "We are not doing this tonight," she put bluntly. And she'd moved back past Brian, gripping his elbow and more dragging him – than just urging him – back upstairs.

She'd almost expected Jack to leave that night after that. But that might've been too easy. It would've provided space for people to calm. So instead he'd stayed – making the whole situation simmer. As well as the kids had somehow managed to sleep that night, Olivia wasn't sure her or Brian had slept at all.

And she'd eventually given up – being the first one to get up – leaving Brian still glaring at the ceiling while she told him she was going to put on coffee and try to temper down this situation.

Jack had been on the couch. He was awake. He'd rolled away from her so he wouldn't have to look at her when she'd come down the stairs. And Olivia had just left it for the moment. She'd gone and put on the coffee and got her and Brian's cups ready. And then she'd gone and sat on the coffee table and stared at Jack. He still tried to ignore her.

So she finally said – flatly and calmly, "Jack, you need to get up." He hadn't moved. "Jack, I want you out of here before Benji and Emmy are awake."

It'd hung there and then he'd finally whispered, "Why?"

"Because they'd have a busy couple days and we have a lot we need to do today," she provided. "I don't want you being here derailing any of that."

"Sunday Family Fun Day?" he muttered with tone and attitude. "I'm family."

Olivia reached and pulled at his shoulder until he tilted enough that she could catch his eyes. "You are family," she put firmly, "but, Jack, right now you are not welcome here without an invitation. That isn't going to change until we work through some of this complicated mess of anger and frustration and tension between … all of us, gets resolved. And that is not going to happen today. It is not going to happen this morning. I don't have the time or energy to even start picking through it with you right now. So – I am asking your politely – to get up, and to leave. Quietly and soon."

He'd stared at her. She could see his eyes glistening at that. But she just gave him a little nod and gave his bicep a little squeeze and she'd gone to retrieve the two cups of coffee and took them back upstairs. And her and Brian just sat there holding them – not talking and not drinking – until almost twenty minutes later they heard the front door open and close.

It hadn't been a good start to the day. But they'd gathered themselves and returned to their usual Sunday morning routines. And the kids had seen unaware anything had happened that night or in the early hours of the morning. Though, Benji's comment about Jack's grumpiness made her wonder. Benji was often more aware and attune to things that he immediately let on.

Her little boy stared at her quietly and then reached to finger at her necklace.

He'd done that since he was a little boy too but she'd noted that it was another thing he was doing more and more again lately. He knew what it said – Fearlessness – and would often trace his fingerpad over the lettering over and over. It'd also occurred to her that she should get him a bracelet with the same sentiment to remind himself.

His eyes shifted a bit and then his hand moved. "I can see your bra, Mommy …" he mumbled a bit and his finger touched at where the strap was pressed into her skin. Funny how her one little boy hardly cared and Jack still made faces if he wanted to use their washer-and-dryer and had to pull out a load that contained any of her undergarments to do so.

"Mmm …," Olivia acknowledged and her hand moved to graze over his and shift the material over a bit on her shoulder while adjusting the neck of her shirt and sweater to try to sit in their proper spot again. The material only shifted so much when there was a weight of another human being tugging it down with the way he was sitting against her. "I wonder if that could have anything to do with a boy being a squirmy worm all over me right now?"

Benji gave her a little smile and lulled his head again. She stroked some more at his short, fine hair. He was tired and wasn't ready to admit it. But she fully expected that he'd be sleeping through whatever afternoon movie they ended up putting on for the kids. And she also expected that it was unlikely that they would be getting Benji work at much homework or put in much time on one of his independent projects that day. Maybe she'd be able to set him up at the kitchen counter for a half-an-hour or so when she was prepping dinner to at least get a little done after he'd had a good rest.

"Should we head home?" she nodded at him.

"We should go to the Transit Museum," Benji said.

"Not without Daddy and Ducky," Olivia countered.

He huffed at that cop out. "We should go get my Halloween costume."

She gazed at him. "I think we're going to deal with Halloween costumes and getting our pumpkins carved next weekend at this point, Benj."

"But that's almost Halloween," he protested a bit. "All the good costumes will be gone!"

Olivia brushed at his hair. "I thought you just wanted to be a spy this year – and we didn't need to go to the costume store."

Benji sighed at her a bit. "But maybe that's not awesome enough for middle school, Mom. There's a contest."

"Ahh …," she allowed. "So what is awesome enough for middle school?"

"I dunno. Maybe a werewolf?"

She put her forehead against his. "Because you have lupus?" she said. That was a family gag to cope that she didn't think was the best idea to introduce to his classmates. "I think spies are pretty awesome, Benj. Epically cool." Not to mention cheap – and not requiring her to visit multiple Halloween shops on her upcoming lunch hours or pay some exuberant last minute shipping online price to get some flimsy, chemical soaked material from China for a costume that would likely nearly disengaged as soon as they got it on her child.

"Emmy's likely gonna wanna be a mad scientist after today," Benji muttered.

"Maybe," Olivia acknowledged. "But I think she is planning on being Unikitty." Another costume that they could throw together with playtime dress-up wear and clothing at home – and maybe some last minute sewing help from Janet and before-dinner craft-time for the kids.

"They give out lab coats and chemistry glasses at the Mad Science parties," Benji muttered.

And Olivia gave him a little nudge. "Envy green doesn't look good on anyone, Little Fox."

He sighed hard at her and stared with a mild sulk and a minor pout. "Will Ducky be home yet if we go?"

She shrugged. "Probably not yet." And Benji gave his head a defiant little shake. And Olivia raised her eyebrow at him. "You aren't proving any kind of point by staying out until Emmy and Daddy get home." He just gazed at her. He clearly knew he was caught but wasn't providing comment. "Maybe if we get home first you can pick out the movie and munchie for everyone."

He gave that little thoughtful pucker of his – the one that had grown with him rather than him outgrowing.

Olivia thought he was going to propose some ridiculous movie or snack he wanted as a concession for his sister getting invited to a party when he hadn't been – not at six and not at eleven. Not for a birthday and definitely not for Halloween. And most definitely not at a venue – but at the Mad Science facility, a venue that he'd heard about for years of parties he'd gone uninvited to but got to listen to other kids talk about before and after their big events. Only this time it was his little sister who was doing the excited babble – that bordered on boosting. But after a heated – and rather heartbreaking – exchange between her and Brian, they'd reluctantly agreed that they couldn't punish or hold-back Emmy just because of Benji's social and friendship struggles.

If anything Emmy had been struggling with finding her place and feeling equal and getting the proper amount of the right kind of attention in the family that year with all Benji's medical needs and appointments. She deserved to have a few hours out of the house with her friends doing something fun that she was really excited about. They couldn't take that away from her even if it broke their hearts in another way that Benji hadn't been able to make that breakthrough for himself quite yet either.

Instead, though, what had come out of Benji's mouth was, "Can I pick Sunday dinner instead? Since Peedg isn't coming … again …"

"Mmm …," Olivia said and held at him a little. Maybe he really had heard some of the ongoings. Or maybe he just assumed since Jack's Sunday visits had become a thing nearly of the past. "Daddy was going to do the groceries while Ducky's at the party, Benj. So I asked him to pick up something for supper."

"What?" Benji asked quietly.

"Pork roast," Olivia said. "And mashed potatoes and broccoli."

"And gravy?"

"Yep," she nodded against his forehead.

"And apple sauce …?" Benji looked at her hopefully – though a little cross-eyed with how tete-a-tete they were in that moment.

"That sounds good," she smiled at him thinly.

"That you make," he clarified.

"That I make," she confirmed.

He was quiet and she waited – expecting him to follow it up with a request of apple crisp for dessert. But he didn't really have to ask, and it wasn't what he did ask.

"Can I have a sip of your drink?" he said instead.

"Little Fox …," she sighed at him and shook her head.

He gave her a look. "'Cuz it's got caffeine?"

"Right," she agreed.

And those grey-blue eyes of his stared at her – the Little Fox puppy dog look. "But that will wake me up. Right, Mom?"

She shook her head and stroked at his hair again. "You're too young to be drinking anything overly caffeinated yet, Benj." Though, with this drink she was really more concerned about the sugar-bomb in the cup than the caffeine. She'd gotten the 'skinny' version but she doubt that did much in sugar reduction.

"How old do you need to be?" he pressed.

"Mmm … eighteen …," she decided. That was likely asking for a lot. But she hoped to hold him off until he was at least into high school – preferably well into high school.

"But it's not like coffee really," he plead a little. "It's your fancy chocolate drink treat, right? Your coffee hot chocolate? … A mocha?"

"It is," she agreed. And he gave her those pleading eyes.

"I just wanna see what it tastes like …"

And Olivia sighed a little. Those eyes – combined with the tired, sadness that was creeping through got to her. She held the cup out to him – holding it for him as he smiled and sat up a little to get the drink. She didn't let go even when he grabbed for it – keeping a grip and controlling the extent of his intake.

"A sip," she pressed firmly.

He took a sip and then tugged at the cup enough that she relented and let him tip it enough to get a bigger swig. And she watched his face as he drew back and considered it – smacking his lips a bit and the tip of his tongue darting over the edges. He gave her a look.

"It's kinda weird," he told her. "It doesn't taste like hot chocolate."

She allowed a little amused noise at that and rested her forehead back against his. "Because it's mocha," she put flatly – but gently with a smile.

He settled back against the chair and gazed down at the book she was reading. The new Margaret Atwood continuation of The Handmaid's Tale. He picked it up and looked at the cover.

"Are you getting a new book for IV Day?" he asked.

"Mmm …," she shook her head, taking her own sip from her slobbered on lip of her mocha. "I don't think that would be a very good IV Day book. But we can pick a book before you leave, if you want, Benj. The new Apollo?"

He made a noise and shook his head still staring at the cover. "Is it not good?"

"Mmm …," Olivia allowed again. "I think maybe it's a little too close to today's world reality for it to feel much like I'm reading fiction. And that's not much fun when you just want to be told a good story."

Her little boy made another little sound and leaned back some more looking at the cover. And then he looked at her. "Mom, you know how we hafta write a Hero's Journey story for school?"

She nodded. "I do."

"And, you know, how we had to make a list of real life heroes before?"

She hummed some acknowledgement. And he fingered at a wrinkle in the sleeve of her sweater, smoothing it out and then scrunching it back together.

"I put you and Daddy," he said.

"Mmm …," she smiled at him. "It's nice to hear you feel that way."

He lulled his head to look at her a bit more. "But then the teacher said for us to think about if we'd been on a Hero's Journey and what our real life heroes' journeys were."

"Yea …?" Olivia acknowledged.

"And, Mom, I think maybe everyone kinda has a Hero's Journey. Just some people's are kinda dumb and not all that like really like a hero. Like winning a basketball tournament isn't like heroic. But everyone still has a Hero's Journey. Right?"

"Mmm …," she said and touched his cheek again, giving him a smile. "That's a pretty big revelation you've come to, Benj. You're right."

He gazed down at the cover again. "So maybe all stories even the fake fiction ones are kinda like real life."

"That's a good point," she said.

"Even if they aren't very fun or kinda sad," Benji added.

She nodded and stroked at his hair again. "You're right, Little Fox."

His head lulled to gaze at her again. "The teacher says our Hero's Journey story can be about our Hero's Journey or one of our real life hero's journeys. But that we can add fiction and imagination to it to tell it. But I was kinda gonna to do yours, Mom. But then when Ms. Pollock was helping me with the statement sheet I figured out that some of your steps on the journey are when the bad man hurt you. So I don't think I wanna write it now."

She exhaled a bit and stared at him. "Why not? I've got to tell you, Benj, I'm pretty touched you wanted to write my story."

"But it's way more personal and sad than like people who are gonna write about like winning stuff," he said.

She stroked her thumb across his forehead. "I don't think it's that sad," she said. "Because I came home and he went to jail and I got to marry Daddy and get to be your and Emmy's Mommy. That seems pretty happy to me. It's the happiest I've been in my whole life."

He gave her a sad little smile. "Mom … you know how we're doing the Family Heritage too?"

She nodded with another listening sound.

"But where is our family from?"

"Ah …," she rubbed her eyebrow. "Well, it depends on which side of the family you want to do."

They'd already gone over this with him when he'd expressed some confusion about the project – and how it fit into their family structure. And she supposed he had a right to be confused. Their family stucture and background didn't fit neatly into a family history project that was ultimately meant as a getaway into a discussion about culture, heritage, traditions – and immigration. Though, she liked to think that in a lot of ways their cobbled together family and mixed backgrounds and stories maybe provided a truer representation of what America was. Or maybe what America should aspire to be on some level.

"You or Daddy …" Benji said.

"Then Daddy's family came from Ireland and mine was from England."

"And they came a long time ago?"

She rubbed her eyebrow a bit. "Pretty long," she allowed.

"On a boat?"

"Yes," she said.

"To Ellis Island?" he asked. The class would be taking a trip there.

"Yes," she allowed.

"Did they get to bring suitcases?"

"I would assume so," Olivia smiled at him.

"Does Gramma or Captain Cragen know what were in the suitcases still?"

She smiled a bit more. "It wasn't Gramma or Captain Cragen who came over on the boats, Little Fox. More generations back than that."

"Oh …," Benji said and thought for a long moment. "You know how we hafta to do the Suitcase Project as part of our family display too?"

"Yes …," she allowed.

"And we had to pretend like we were our an-sisters and coming home for the first time. And make a list of stuff and then figure out if it could fit and what we would actually take and why?"

"OK …," she allowed. She wasn't sure she recalled that being mentioned before but sometimes – unless it was science class or one of the Exploration Days at the school – it was a little like pulling teeth to get Benji to say much about what they'd done in class.

"People were saying really stupid stuff, Mom," he said. "Like their phones and Xbox and medals."

"Mmm …," she allowed. "Well, I think it'd be hard to really know what we'd take if we were in a situation where all we could take is a suitcase. That'd be some tough choices and likely in a situation where we'd have to make those choices very quickly."

And Benji gazed at her – almost into her, really. "Did Peedg have to do that when he took me away from the farm?" he asked quietly. "To bring me home?"

And Olivia looked right back at him and stroked her fingers through his hair more. "In a way," she agreed.

"That coulda been his Hero's Journey too …," Benji said.

She felt her eyes sting a bit at that and nodded. "I think it was," she said.

He gazed at her more. "Did I have a suitcase when I came to live with you, Mom?"

And it stung a bit more. But she shook her head. "No, Benj. You had a backpack with some clothes and Jack brought a milk crate that had some toys in it. And a bag with blankets."

"A gym bag?"

"No, sweetheart," she said and rubbed her thumb down his cheek.

His eyes glistened a bit. "A garbage bag?" he whispered.

She nodded.

"And he left me outside at your door? It was night."

She nodded and held at his shoulder. "Yes," she acknowledged. She knew he remembered that part. That was something she wasn't sure he would ever forget. It was a formative memory ingrained into his being.

"Mom … does Peedg hate me?"

"No, Benji. He doesn't hate you," she gripped him more.

"Does he hate you and Dad?"

"I really don't know, sweetheart. I don't think so. But I don't know what's going on with Jack right now. I don't know what he's thinking or how he's feeling. He won't tell me. So it's really hard to help him – when he won't talk to me. But I'm trying, Benj. I'm working on it. I'm trying to help him so he doesn't hurt so much. But sometimes, sweetheart, people really need to help their selves to be able to get over something that hurts that much. They need to learn to take care of themselves and I'm not sure Jack knows how to do that yet."

"Maybe it's because he's still on his journey?" Benji suggested weakly.

"I think that might be part of it," she agreed.

"I'm still on mine too," Benji whispered. "But … Mom … I don't know if my monster can be beat. Lupus? Maybe Jack doesn't know if it can be beat either and that's why he's … he's … refusing the call …?"

She smiled weakly at him and stroked his hair. "Maybe," she agreed. "But I'm pretty sure all monsters can be beat if a Hero finds his allies and helpers. And, Benji, you've got that. You've got me and Daddy and Emmy and Captain Cragen and Gramma and Nana-Eileen and Unkie Munchie all with you for this. And we absolutely know even if we can't beat the monster right now – we can sure beat him back into hiding for a good long time."

"Is it gonna hurt?" he asked. "Beating the monster back?"

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss into his forehead and then set hers against it and stared him in the eye until they were both looking into each other's soul. "The IV is just gonna be a really, really long day, Benj. But Daddy and I are going to be there every step of the way. Promise."

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**The chapter prior to this was added on the same day. Please go back and ensure you read it. This is a continuation of that chapter.**

**Your readership, reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated.**


	17. Help

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

Jack leaned against the wall next to the door of Renee's apartment. He'd heard the blender or something going when he knocked the first time and no one had come. So he'd knocked again – pounded – a bit louder now that it sounded quieter in there but it still seemed like no one was coming. So much so that he startled a bit when the door did open and Renee's roommate peeked through the crack.

He straightened and put himself in her view before she slammed it shut. Instead she pretty much groaned at him.

"Oh, it's you," Tara said.

Jack sighed a little at that and slouched some, pressing his clenched fists deeper into his pockets. "Is Renee around?"

Tara shrugged at him through the crack and took a slurp out of some nasty green drink that smelled like ass even from where he was standing. It was also clashing with her hair that had apparently been changed from purple to florescent blue since the last time he'd seen her. That looked pretty dumb-ass next to her ass sauce.

"Maybe she's around but do you really think she's up at like seven on a Sunday morning?"

Jack gave her a really annoyed look. "Well, I guess if she was sleeping she'd be awake now after you mixing up that shit," he said with a gesture at her vomit smoothie.

"You're such a dick," she mouthed at him quietly and then turned into the apartment. "Lover Boy's loitering outside the door. You want me to let him in or tell him to go fuck himself?"

Tara gave him a look like she got him real good with that one and chewed on the straw some more. Jack just shook his head at her and simmered – digging his fingernails into his palms more and shoving them even harder into his jacket pockets.

"You can let him in," he finally heard Renee say flatly from likely off in their cramped living room.

Tara stared at him – disgusted and unimpressed with her roommate's response, clearly. "Guess you're getting momentarily lucky again …"

He opened his mouth to shoot something back at that comment but managed to bite his tongue. He needed to at least get in the door if he wanted to talk to Renee. And Tara apparently was the fucking gatekeeper that morning.

So he just stood there and waited as the door closed. He almost expected to hear it lock. But there was the sound of the chain sliding off and the door reopened a couple seconds later.

"Thanks," he muttered and pressed by Tara. But she sauntered after him, still chewing on the straw of her breakfast drink.

Renee was sitting on the floor in the living – at the coffee table and her laptop open and files spread all over the whole space already. She had a vomit juice with a decent dent in it sitting amid the work she'd clearly brought home for the weekend. But when didn't seen bring home work for any day of the week? She had some music going real quiet – like she'd probably been trying to be respectful of Tara, who was still in some kind of purple leopard print yoga pants that were likely for sleeping and not exercising. And fucking CNN was on the TV screen muted. She was looking at the news ticker on the bottom of the screen before she bothered to move her eyes to him. All Jack got was a little frown out of her.

"Hey …," he tried.

"Hey," Renee put back to him.

And it just fucking hung there. Jack just fucking stood there. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. It wasn't really like she was inviting him in or looked remotely glad he was there.

Tara stared back and forth between the two of them – still chomping on the fucking straw. Not drinking it. It was like she wanted to savor the grossness of gag-smell emitanating off it. It ended up being Tara that Renee looked more at. The two of them held eyes for like this long beat like they'd had some kind of complete conversation with just that look.

"Yea, so I guess I'll go shampoo my hair …" Tara muttered sarcastically and took her (not so) sweet-ass time trudging out of the room.

Jack just stood there again staring at the floor until he heard what was clearly the bedroom door close off the little hallway – not the bathroom. But it wasn't like he really expected her to be washing her hair. He pretty much expected that she was standing with her ear at the door listening to this whole attempt at a conversation.

So he exhaled and sheepishly looked up to find Renee's eyes. At least she was looking at him. Maybe that counted for something.

He tried to give her a smile. But he could tell it felt weak – and strained, and just sad too. Because he felt pretty fucking sad. But she gave one that looked and felt about the same way back to him. Maybe that counted for something too.

So he made himself go and sit on the opposite side of the table from her, crossing his legs and staring more at the files and paperwork she had in front of her.

"Work?" he asked. It was a stupid question.

"Yeah," Renee allowed.

He nodded. "Sucks how much crap they pile on you to dig through on the weekend all the time …"

And she shrugged. "They don't pile it on me. I want to do it. These women deserve to have someone who cares – to listen and to try and help them. That's the job. I like doing my job – helping."

"Yea …," Jack acknowledged.

Renee went back scrolling through something on her computer and he stared at her. He wasn't sure what to say or do next. He probably should've planned it out better. He thought he kind of had. But now it didn't seem like the way he'd practiced in his head made any kind of sense as the way for it to come out of his mouth.

"I take it you've got nothing on the go today," she said – still not looking at him. There wasn't really tone to how she said it. But Jack also kinda knew there was.

So he just shrugged a bit. "I guess I could work on some work stuff too."

He didn't elaborate. He didn't think she really wanted to hear about his work stuff. Maybe she didn't really want to hear about any of his stuff right now. And that was kinda fair. But she nodded. Just barely. And still kept looking at whatever it was that she was doing on the computer. He couldn't see the screen.

"I went over to my Mom's and Brian's," Jack allowed quietly, staring at the table in front of him. "She pretty much kicked me out this morning."

Renee made something that resembled a listening sound. "It sort of sounded like she gave you an ultimatum about that the last time you talked."

"Yea …," Jack acknowledged. "I guess."

"So it was likely less kicking you out and more like her reaffirming that you have to do the work – that I don't think you've done," Renee said. "I don't know. Maybe you have. It's been like a week since I've heard from you."

Jack sighed internally and stared at the files on the table more – upside down. He traced his finger along the edge of one. But Renee must've thought he was reading it or something. She reached and closed the folder and pulled it away from him by a few inches. He gave her what he knew must be a pretty pathetic and hurt look. But at least she looked at him.

"I just don't know what I'm supposed to say," he said. "It all comes out … just wrong and awkward."

"It all just comes out worse, Jack, when I don't hear from you for days or weeks," she pressed back at him.

And Jack sat back a bit – staring at her. "I miss you," he said. He hadn't meant to. It slipped out. And he sighed and looked down. Because he knew that wasn't what he was supposed to say.

But she responded. She said, "I miss you too."

And he gazed up at her. He weighed that. And he managed to meet her eyes – keep her eyes – and sit a bit straighter. "Was it really that bad?" he asked and glanced off in the direction of Tara's room and all the shade and innuendo she'd been casting his way. Like Renee had told her everything – and none of it had been good.

Renee stared back at him and her face scrunched up with annoyed disgust. "You really think that we're at the point that this is still about the sex, Jack?" she nearly spat at him.

And he sat back a bit again. "About the 'I love you'?" he sputtered. "When I said it?"

She made a noise at him – like he was clueless. And her hand ran through her hair. All the way through. He loved her hair. Well, he loved a lot of things about her. He didn't love how clearly annoyed and upset she was with him.

"I know it was stupid – fucking amateur hour - to say it when I said it. But I did mean it," he tried with a touch of desperation. "I still mean it. But I miss you. And I'd rather have my friend—"

"Jack, please, stop," she sighed hard.

He did and just sat staring at her again. She was staring down into her lap doing what he knew was some pretty practiced inhales and exhales. Trying to like calm and center herself. Because of him. And not in any kind of good way.

"It's not about the sex, Jack," she finally said – still not looking at him. "It is and it isn't."

Jack shook his head involuntarily. His jaw dropped a bit as he tried to find some kind of words. But it just kind of open and closed and bobbled there like some kind of fucking Vinyl Pop figure of himself.

"I don't understand …," he managed to get to tumble out of his mouth.

She looked at him. And she sighed at him. At his impression of the Deer in Headlights Funko Pop.

"Jack, it's about you not being able to have a conversation – an honest conversation – with anyone. Not being able to tell anyone how you're feeling or what's going on with you. Not being able to ask for help. Not with me and not with Olivia – with your family. Even on … things that should be easy, Jack."

"Like what …?" he asked.

She expelled air more forcibly at him. "Like telling Olivia we were a couple. I wanted to tell her. You wanted to wait. So instead I got to feel like I was lying to her and hiding it from her. You know I have interactions with her unit and the ADA's assigned to SVU and with Alex's organization. And I had months where I felt like I was living in some lie because you couldn't just have a conversation with her, Jack."

"That would've been complicated," he contended. "It wouldn't have gone over well. It didn't go over well. She doesn't exactly love the idea we're together."

"Exactly," Renee pressed at him. "And that's something I wish we could've worked on months ago. Because I appreciated and valued having her in my life too, Jack. And now it is – awkward. It's awkward with your whole family. These people you love and who care about you – and so clearly need you right now, Jack. Your little nephew? And it's like this whole chasm going on. And then you just pull these stunts. I specifically asked you if it'd be better if I didn't come to Benji's birthday party – and you said it was fine, and to come, and that I was invited. And it just was uncomfortable for everyone, Jack. For me. For him. For Olivia. And I come away from it feeling like … shit. Feeling like … now since then it's created some kind of conflict that's sent your family life into a bigger spiral. And that makes me so mad at you in so many ways, Jack. You've got good people who love and support you and …"

And then it was her who looked like the bobble head. Only her head was shaking back and forth.

He just stared at her – trying to find words. Trying to find the right words.

"Stuff's just complicated with my family right now," he managed. "It's got nothing to do with you."

"It feels like it does," she said. "It feels like I've been a contributing factor in sending you into some kind of tailspin that you can't get out of and you aren't letting anyone help you pull out of either."

He blinked at her. His chest felt tight. "Maybe I'm trying to let you help …"

"But are you?" she pressed at him.

He shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. I think so. I … I came over. We're talking, right?"

Renee exhaled and pressed back into the lower panel of the loveseat behind her. Her arms crossed protectively in front of her. And Jack felt his arms do the same. He looked like she might want to cry as much as he thought he might like to too.

"Jack, you don't talk to me. Not about the big, important things that would make me believe there's more to the 'I love you' and 'I miss you' and the 'You're my best friend' than it just being you don't have anywhere else to turn right now."

He shook his head again at that – more violently. "I talk to you about lots. About Benji and—"

"You provide vague medical updates on Benji," she interrupted. "And express anger about how Olivia and Brian are managing it – which I don't even understand where that is coming from. Or even how it's your business."

"He's my nephew. I have a right to be involved in making decis—"

"You signed your rights away, Jack," she spat at him. "They are his parents. And do you seriously think you could handle the decision-making around any of this right now? With the way you are lately? Because I sure don't."

He took his own deep breaths, trying to calm. Trying to steady and to not just runaway. His being was telling him to just get up and leave. To fuck this.

"And however you're feeling about how they're managing Benji's healthcare, Jack – he needs you right now. He doesn't need you antagonizing his parents. That's just making it harder on everyone."

He kept breathing and stared down into his lap. "I've talked to you about my childhood and the shit with my mom and my dad. My uncle."

"Have you?" Renee put flatly.

He scrunched his brow and looked at her – confused again. Renee kept his sightline, though. But she held at herself a little tighter.

"I was ready to have sex with you months before you were ready to take that step, Jack," she said.

His head shook involuntarily at that again. He didn't want to go there – where he thought she was going to try to go.

"I was at a place in my healing that I wanted that experience – with you. But you weren't at a place in your healing where you were."

He shrugged and stared down. "Yea, well, after basically being with a controlling Dominatrix-wannabe who dumps your ass for some submissive dick – it takes a while to trust again and move on."

"I don't think it was about Christina," Renee said flatly. He could still feel that she was looking right at him. But he stared at the ripples in his jeans and the scuff marks around his shoes.

And Jack shrugged. "Well, then it's what I did talk to you about. That she's the longest relationship I had. That relationship is where I got most of my sexual experience. And she was pretty controlling and I didn't have to do much. So … yea … I just don't have many moves when it comes to that stuff. You said you were OK with that. That you needed things to move at a pace that you were comfortable with, had control over …"

He heard her sit forward a bit and saw her arms rest on the table – leaning against them.

"Jack …," she said more evenly.

He have a slow exhale before looking up at her – because he knew that's what he needed to do. That it was what she was waiting for him to do. Her eyes were so pretty too. But right now they looked so sad and hurt and worried and that was hard to look at – especially when he knew he was making them look that way.

"I was comfortable and felt in control months ago, Jack," she said again. "We talked. I initiated. You made the decision for us to stop each time."

And he shrugged again. This one felt shallower. "Sorry, I guess I don't really know how to be with a rape victim."

And he saw her eyes rim a bit more with that. Her mouth scrunched and twitched and puckered like she was struggling to hold it a sob that he'd created. Or maybe more like the air he'd knocked out of her lungs.

And he looked down a little ashamed. Maybe more than a little.

"We were always over here," he mumbled with a loose gesture off at Tara's room again. "And she's always here. You'd never come to my place so we could have some real privacy."

Renee sat back again from the table and exhaled. "You live like four blocks from TSU, Jack. You know how I feel about being in that neighborhood at night without a good reason."

"I'm not a good reason?" he put to her. "And, fine, I heard you. I came over here. And I'm looking for a studio that's nowhere near TSU. I went and looked at a place this week. In the Upper West Side. We could afford it – if we moved in together."

And she just gaped at him like that. "Seriously?" she demanded of him. "Jack, that is not hearing me."

He flared his nostrils a bit and shook his head. "Yea, right, because you can't go back to some guy's place alone either. And I'm still 'some guy'."

"No, you aren't," she hissed at him. "But, you know, that's not something I'm comfortable with yet. It's still a hurdle I'm working at getting over – whether you like it or not. Just like you've clearly got hurdles you're working at getting over – whether I like it or not."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he spit out quickly and then even more quickly added, "You don't know what you're talking about."

Renee shook her head again and looked down. Her fingers dragged her fallen hair away from her face again and he heard her release a big sigh. But she found his eyes again. They were glassier than before.

"You still can't talk to me," she said. "I know you can tell we're – this relationship – is in a bad spot, Jack. I know you know that we're at a turning point here. That we're at make or break – and you still can't talk to me. You still can't be honest with me. With yourself."

"I am being honest with you," he pressed hard. "I am talking to you."

"Jack," she spat out hard. "You seriously expect me to believe – after all the things we have talked about, after what we have done in bed together, after the moments we've had and haven't had – that that you're struggling with is me seeing or touching some surgical scar or remotely caring that you only have one nut? If that's really what's going on here, Jack – after a year of us being together – then you need to fucking get over yourself. Seriously. But I don't for a second seriously believe that either of those things have anything to do with all these rules and boundaries and insecurities you have in bed, Jack. With me. About sex."

Jack felt his eyes glassing and he bit at his lower lip – willing his face to stay neutral. Praying that she wasn't seeing the way his eyes felt. But she was looking right at him.

"Your uncle did more than beat the crap out of you, Jack. He left you with more than this scar," she said and her finger reached for the white line across his forehead. But he pulled back and she let her hand move down to the table. "And if it wasn't him – it was someone else."

He made himself breath. He focused on it. His chest felt really tight. It felt like it took ages and ages for it to loosen. It felt like he was having to pull to really breath in and the air just was filling his lungs. Like a brick on top of his lungs. And Renee just watched him the whole time. And reached and found his hand and just held it on the table. She looked like she wanted to cry again and like she was just barely holding it together too.

"It wasn't the way you think …" he near whispered out.

"Then, Jack, please – tell me the way it was …" she pleaded.

He sighed and shook his head looking down at his shoe and crossed legs again. He felt at her hands – both of them – gripping at his. Her fingers rubbing across the top of his hand – playing across the thin skin and the bones and knuckles.

"Jack," Renee finally said, "I care about you. A lot. I absolutely value our friendship. In a lot of ways, you've been so helpful with my healing. And I really wanted to be in a relationship with you. I really have tried."

"So you're breaking up with me?" he whispered.

And her hands held at his more. "Please – listen."

He made himself look at her. Their eyes were both iced over with tears trying to fall but both of them refusing to let them slip out on their own accord.

"It's increasingly become so, so hard to keep working through my rape and my assault and to keep healing and to keep trying to get back to living as normal life as I can now, Jack. And part of that is because … it's become so clear that … you're dealing with something too. More than you've said or told me. I've been investing so much time trying to … heal us. To save us both. To make things 'normal' for both of us. To get to be part of a family and to have a relationship. And I can't. I can't fix any of it for you – or even me right now. I won't be able to when I don't think you're trying to heal, Jack. You won't for yourself. So why would you for me? Or for us? And I can't even argue with you about that – to try to force it forward – because I don't even really know what I'm dealing with. And I feel like we're at a point where we're just triggering each other. I feel like us having sex – clearly before you were ready - has triggered you into this tailspin."

"It didn't," he said quietly. "It's everything. It's too much at once."

"Then you need to ask for help," she pressed. "You need to seek it out. You need to accept it."

He inhaled and exhaled. And inhaled and exhaled. And he stared at her.

"Help …," he finally whispered at her. But his voice cracked.

And tears slipped out. And then hers did too.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Yesterday two chapters were posted. So you might want to make sure you saw them both.**

**I've worked really hard on the last few chapters and am pretty happy with and proud of them. Knowing they're being read and enjoyed is really nice to hear and a good motivator. The readership numbers on this Bensidy AU is really low so every little bit of feedback really is appreciated.**


	18. Get There

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

Olivia gazed over the top of her glasses as the light and air in the quiet restaurant changed. They were between their lunch and dinner service but she'd managed to slip in just before they locked up for their turnaround and claim a booth in the back for the mid-afternoon – seeking out some much needed quiet and minimal distraction for a few hours. But she heard the door open and looked up.

With the way the light was shining in the windows at the front, she could only see a silhouette. But as the front-of-staff hostess went up to the door from where she'd been working at polishing water spots off the cutlery and rolling them up into the cloth napkins. Olivia could hear Jack's tenor say he was meeting for her and saw the hostess point back her way. She'd told the staff she was expecting her son to show up at some point that afternoon. Though, when she'd said it she wasn't entirely sure she'd believed he would actually show. That was Jack's M.O. lately: imply one thing and do the exact opposite.

Olivia took a deep breath as she watched Jack start to make his way toward the back of the restaurant. She'd told herself that she'd keep calm and even if he did showup and they actually managed to have a conversation. That she wouldn't chastise him or express her extreme frustration with his attitude and behavior lately. She'd just make herself set that aside and treat this as a do-over. This was now. They needed to find some footing in the now to even begin working on everything that had transpired over the last weeks – and, really, months. But she knew keeping that calm – to be even with him, but to treat him like an adult, not a teen-aged boy – was going to be partially related to the attitude Jack came into this with. And, yet – she was going to try.

She quickly tidied some of her files – making some space for him at the table that she really had completely occupied. And she looked to her computer, quickly finishing the one field and saving the work in progress. She was giving her phone a final glance as Jack reached her table.

"This is kinda a weird place to hide out," he put to her flatly.

She just shrugged at him, giving him a quick once over. Jack had definitely embraced the Millennial (or Post-Millennial? … sometimes she wasn't sure), young professional New York hipster look in a lot of ways. She supposed it was an upgrade from the neglected farm boy skater in the over-sized, baggy clothes that he'd insisted on for years. But sometimes she still found herself wondering if he was a little too dressed down for the office environment he was working in in an established New York architecture firm. She generally refrained from comment, though. The last time she'd said anything was just before he'd started to the job and had made the mistake of asking if he was gong to go out and buy a bit of a work wardrobe. The look she'd got – had given her a clear answer. As had his lack of restraint in then making passing comments about her work clothes for weeks afterwards. Apparently he wasn't a fan of her outfits. Or at least a great many of her shirts. He'd made that more than clear in a completely unnecessary way. It'd eventually been Brian who'd said something to him – and it must've been strongly – because the little quips, stinging jokes and passing commentary had stopped.

"I needed to get some uninterrupted work done," she said.

"Isn't that what your office is for," Jack said.

She made an amused sound at that and gestured for him to sit, still working on stacking up some of her mounds of files for the paperwork she was trying to finish up.

Having an office to retreat to did little to give her any kind of uninterrupted work hours or privacy. Even closing the door didn't really work – especially with Carisi. He barely even knocked – or at least didn't wait after he did – before charging right in to provide her with generally unnecessary updates. It was similar to having children. A master bedroom to retreat to and an en suite bathroom to take a quiet bath in really didn't exist. There was no such thing as personal or quiet space – or time to yourself – apparently when you had the title of 'boss' or 'mommy'.

"They still know I'm in there," she said and glanced at her phone as it vibrated. She picked it up again, giving it a cursory glance. It was Rollins. And it could wait.

"Seems like they know you're here too," Jack said, lowering himself into the booth across from her.

She allowed him a thin-lipped smile for that as she set the phone back down. "They know they can reach me," she said. "They don't know where I am."

He made small sound at that clarification and somewhat awkwardly glanced at her set up and then around the empty restaurant. "They just let you shut the place down or something?"

She smiled a little more at that and shook her head. "Long-time customer," she allowed.

Her staff actually wouldn't have had to look too far for her if they really needed her – and she could be back to the bullpen in a matter of minutes if something really did pop. But she was happy that for the moment her squad hadn't quite figured out yet she was barely two blocks away at a favorite sit-down meal spot of the precinct. Thankfully it didn't seem to top the list of favorites of her team. Maybe Rollins and Carisi were still a little too new – or this was a little too old guard for them. It'd more likely be Fin who'd realize where she was. She wouldn't be surprised if he did – but he kept a lid on it over the years for the days she did need to take the time. Though, she wouldn't put it past Rollins or Carisi to ping her phone at some point in the future and her little hideaway spot would be ruined.

"Are you hungry?" she asked Jack. She could see that the hostest must've told Tony her guest had arrived and he'd moved out to the bar to gauge the situation and see if he needed to offer the manager's touch. "Did you want something?"

Jack eyed the plate she had sitting off to the side. She'd ordered a salad when she'd arrived but had just slowly picked through it as she worked. She could tell that Tony had told his staff to just give her space and focus on getting ready for dinner – not to worry about clearing her dishes or keeping her water glass full. It'd been a while since anyone had been over to check on her. But that was fine. That was also the way she liked it. She was there to work – not be waited on.

"Nah," Jack said, giving his head a little shake. "I'm good."

"You sure?" she asked. Tony had already caught eyes with her and she could see he was headed over. "You're looking a little gaunt again lately, Jack."

He gave her a shrug but then startled a bit when that shrugged shoulder was gripped by Tony. Olivia saw Jack tense – and Tony must've felt it. That friendly back-clap slipped away and his smile faded a bit as his eyes moved from Jack over to her. He flipped a glass in front of Jack and filled it with water from the canter he'd brought over, and then topped off hers.

"New recruit?" Tony put to her. "Must be a good one, if you're treating?"

Olivia kept Jack's eyes for a beat – trying to offer some reassurance and measuring if the unanticipated touch had sent him a little off kilter. But he seemed to steady, sitting back a bit in the booth and watching her before giving Tony a bit of a glance and a clear measurement of his own. So Olivia just gave the young man across from her a gesture.

"Tony, this is Jack," she introduced.

The burly Italian faked some shock and bored down into Jack with a bigger grin. "So this is the famous architect? Finally," he said, giving a nod at Olivia. "After all these years. Aren't you just making Mama Mia one proud lady."

Jack gave her a bit of a look. There was some insecurity there that she spoke about him when he wasn't around. There always had been and there likely always would be. But there was also a flash of some guilt – or shame – at the use of the word 'proud'. 'Proud' likely wouldn't be the word Olivia would pick to describe her feelings toward Jack these days – and her oldest clearly knew it.

"Well, a kid like this – after a hard day's work, likely need to get some food into you. Amirite?" he gave Jack another smile.

But Jack shook his head a bit. "I'm fine. Really. Thanks."

Tony made a 'what's with this guy' noise and face at Olivia, gesturing at Jack. But she only shook her head and shrugged.

"What's with your family today?" Tony put to her. "Can't feed him. Can't feed you. Months since you've had in the little ones."

She gave him a smile. "Tony, I keep telling you: I've got a husband to cook me dinner now."

Tony made a pft. "Only took him twenty years to get on that."

"Well, get got around to it. And seven years in – his clam sauce hasn't killed any of us yet."

It got a minor guffaw out of Tony. He nodded down at Jack. "You know how many plates of chicken parm I feed old Brian there back in the day? Every. Day." He jutted another thumb at Jack and gave Olivia another nod. "Was about as scrawny as this one back then too, huh?"

That earned some amusement from her. "Then you should see him now, Tony. Bri's eating gluten-free. Has trimmed right down."

"You're kidding me?" Tony said with more than a head shake and an eye roll.

"Not quite to his twenty-something physique. But he claims it's the best his gut has felt in his adult life."

And that got a bigger pft out of Tony and another thumb jabbed at Jack. "Supposed to be these jokers that spout of that at me. Wanting their rice 'pasta'."

She smiled and looked down at the table. He held out his hand to retrieve her salad plate and she handed it to him.

"He's cooking gluten-free dinner for you at home and all you let me bring you out is some lettuce and tomato," he said with a firm head shake. He gave her another nod. "I'll have them pack up some meatballs for you. Some parm for old time sake. You tell Brian to back out of the kitchen tonight. Get some real food into you and the kiddos."

She allowed him a thin smile. "I appreciate that." Though, she wasn't sure they'd realistically be able to eat it. But there was little point in arguing with him. And there were lots of other people in her life who'd appreciate being handed some real Italian take-away.

Tony gestured at Jack as he trod away. "This joker will get something to get in him too."

"Thank you," Olivia mouthed. But Jack looked a little uncomfortable. He sat still – and quiet – until he clearly felt that Tony was out of earshot.

"This where you come for a cheat meal?" he asked flatly. There was some sarcasm to it.

But Olivia didn't bite. She just shook her head. "I don't need to cheat, Jack. I eat what I want when I don't have an audience and need to be setting an example. And, the truth is, I don't mind most of the restrictions. I think all of us have seen some kind of benefit out of the diet they're recommending for Benji."

"And you're still letting him send you home with pasta and breaded eggplant?"

She shrugged. "Or maybe I was going to let you take all of it so you could eat for the week."

He looked at her and then the table. He just sat like that for a long while. And Olivia watched him.

"You said you'd like to talk?" Olivia put to him – and rather purposely gave her watch a glance.

She had agreed to meet – and she was glad he'd at least reached out to initiate some kind of conversation. But she also didn't have time for games. She would need to check back into the precinct before she headed home – and she'd like to get home not much later than 6:30 or 7 – so she could hopefully at least catch the tail-end of dinner with her family and be there for the kids' bedtime routine. To tuck them in and kiss them and hug them and hold them.

Jack shrugged a bit and she sighed. She'd started to open her mouth to tell him that she wasn't going to be able to sit there with him for too much longer. So it was pretty much talk now or forever hold his peace – at least until the next time she was able to carve out some time for him. And, if they were both going to be honest, doing that wasn't at the top of her priority list right now. But he looked up at her before she did.

"You had your appointment with Jamin's doctors again this week?"

And so she allowed him a nod. "We did."

Jack's finger traced along the edge of the table. "How'd the go?"

She watched him. He wasn't exactly looking at her. He seemed awkward and nervous. Just uncomfortable. But it was about the first time in nearly two months that Jack had asked for an update on Benji's health – or really even acknowledged the challenges his nephew was experiencing in a way that wasn't some back-handed comment about the way any of them were handling it.

So Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow and sat back in her side of the booth a bit. "It went well. It was pretty casual. Just a question-and-answer session. But Brian and I both came away with a better understanding of what to expect from the treatment – the procedure. Potential complications and side effects. "

"Are there lots?" Jack asked flatly.

"Some," was all she provided. To talk about any of that more was a longer conversation – and also seemed like a potential way to jinx the entire thing. She was going to work at believing that any side effects Benji experienced would be mild and short-lived – just passing. And that this would just be the next step in helping her little boy get back on his feet and to knock this disease into some kind of remission for the moment. So Benji could get back to being a little boy – who was growing up entirely too quickly.

It got another little nod from Jack and he looked up a bit at her. "Brian left some of the pamphlets about the treatment at my place. I looked at them. Went online a bit."

She nodded. "Then you know…"

He shrugged. "I guess. Sorta."

Olivia knew that comment could be taken a lot of ways. And that there was a lot of misinformation – and scary, worst-case-scenario information – online. People catastrophizing, and spouting off conspiracy theories, and being hypochondriacs, and playing Dr. Google. But she opted not to get into that aspect of online information in the medical realm. Instead, she'd just assume that Jack was reading reputable sources and medical journals – because she still wanted to believe he was a bright, intelligent young man. No matter how immature, dense and stupid he could act at times.

"Well, most of the medical literature is pretty dense," Olivia provided. "Brian and I both struggle through it. Sometimes I think we'd do better to print it off and hand it over to Emmy for her to explain to us."

Jack allowed a small smile at that. He'd know there was truth to that. He knew how smart Emmy was. They all did. It was hard to miss. But he didn't comment on the quip. Instead he just looked at her a little bit more. "I saw a bunch of news stories that said there's a shortage of the immunoglobulins."

Olivia exhaled and nodded. "Yes."

"So is he even really going to get the treatment? Like … any time soon?"

"We hope so," Olivia said. "The hospital is triaging patients and calling in the ones most in need of the treatment."

"So where's he on that list?" Jack asked.

"He's pretty middle of the road," Olivia allowed. "He's not as critical as some of the kids are. But with the disease affecting his lungs, and us coming up on cold and flu season, his doctors would really like to get a round of the drug therapy into him."

Jack looked at her a bit more. "It sounded like a lot of people have to get this stuff for like months at a time for basically years. Or forever."

Olivia shrugged. "Benji's situation is a little different. How they're using it is considered a little experimental – off-label. But the autoimmune clinic at the pediatric hospital has treated about a dozen kids with lupus using this method and they've seen some pretty notable success after very few cycles. Some a one-time treatment has been enough."

"So he just gets it once?" Jack pressed a bit more.

"To start," she provided. "If it helps, it will likely be a treatment that we'll have to resort to intermittently, if – when - the disease flares up badly again. The doctors see it as a way to help bring up his immune system and bring down the inflammation in his lungs – quickly."

He stared. His eyes seemed more concerned – more focused on Benji – than they had in a long time. They looked less retreated into himself. Less self-absorbed. But there was still this vacates to them. Jack looked lost.

"If it's off-label, does that mean it's not covered?" he asked quietly.

Olivia gave a little shrug – because that was about all she could give. "We're still working some of that out. The hospital and doctors are helping us along. We've got options. And, in the very least, it looks like the insurance will at least cover the hospital and doctors' expenses – if not the drug itself."

"I saw people saying the drug costs like $20,000 per treatment," Jack stared at her.

And she shook her head, rubbing at her eyebrow. "It's not going to cost that much."

The way he was staring at her, Olivia could tell he wanted to be told more. But she wasn't going to get into the financials of it. That was her and Brian's business. And they were still working it out. They were still seeing how it would work out. It was a lot of bureaucracy and red tape. Mounds of paperwork and forms for the doctors and hospital to fill out and hours of time on the phone with the insurance companies.

"We've still got time to work it out," was what she did allow. "It's not going to happen tomorrow – or even next week. He's on the waiting list. He's been triaged. His vitals and IgA's have to be at a certain level to even be eligible to go ahead when his name does come up."

"And they aren't?"

"They were within range the last time we tested," she allowed. "But some of his labs have consistently been wonky. That's just the disease. We're trying him on a second immuno-modulator right now – in the interim."

Jack squinted at her. "What's that?"

She sighed a bit. She wasn't even sure Jack had registered that Benji had been on an immuno-modulator for most of that year. She wasn't sure how much of any of what Benji – what her and Brian and Emily – had been going through at home had truly registered with Jack. There'd been a period that summer where she thought he was starting to understand –where he was spending time at the house and was seeing how the disease impacted their day-to-day, the challenges they and Benji had in managing this health. But that clearly hadn't been enough for him to really understand. He clearly hadn't heard a lot of the information they'd given him. He hadn't tried to stay up-to-date or educated about Benji's treatment or what they were trying – or had tried. That the immuno-modulator was a first-line therapy. They'd already tried a second-line therapy. The immunoglobulins would be a third-line. And … she wasn't sure what this latest medication would count as. She couldn't really say.

So she just cocked her head at him. "Jack, what's with the sudden interest?"

And his finger traced along the edge of the table again. "You said I had to get educated if I wanted to spend time with you guys. With him. You basically kicked me out on the weekend."

And Olivia exhaled some more. "I didn't kick you out. I asked you to leave. Politely."

"Same difference …," he mumbled.

"You were really working at pushing buttons, Jack," she said. "And you knew you were. You knew we were spending time with Alex and Trevor that evening. You knew the conversation you had with them would get brought up. You'd told her you'd discuss it with us. You hadn't. You being there was a very calculated move."

He gave her an upward glance and a little shrug. "You just let Brian rip into me."

She made a little noise and looked up at the ceiling, settling back into the booth. "Jack, that wasn't close to Brian ripping into you. Was he incredible frustrated with you – and maybe more than a little upset with you? Yes. But so was I."

"He said some pretty obnoxious and hurtful shit," Jack muttered.

"And you have been incredibly obnoxious and extremely hurtful to all of us – in words and actions for months," she put plainly.

It got another little glance – but then nothing.

Olivia let the silence hang there for a long moment but then shook her head. She really didn't have time for this.

"Was it the apartment, the lease, that you wanted to talk about?" she pressed at him.

And he shrugged.

She rubbed at her eyebrow and practiced some quiet, calming breathing in an attempt to not 'rip into him'. She'd promised herself that she wouldn't.

"Renee's pretty pissed at me too," he finally muttered. "And … she basically told me I need to fix this …". It got a wishy-washy gesture in her direction.

"Ahh …," Olivia allowed – with a barely contained eye roll. The urge to raise her voice at him bubbled again as her frustration grew. But she forced herself to push it down. "So you two are talking again?"

"Don't sound so happy about that," Jack muttered.

And the eye roll did come out at that and she stared at the ceiling for a long beat. "Jack, I'm really at the point where I don't want to be pulled into anything to do with your relationships."

He gave her a look. "I know you don't like that we're together."

And she exhaled slowly – purposefully – and gazed at him. "I have – had - concerns about the two of you being in a relationship," she said flatly. "I care about you both – and I didn't want to see either of you get hurt."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he pressed, his eyes darting to her.

Olivia kept his eyes. "That both of you have issues you're working through, Jack."

"Right. So what? That makes me unlovable, right?"

She glared at him hard. "You are a challenging person to deal with, Jack, and Renee already has a lot on her plate. And, as for what Renee has in her past – I do have concerns you aren't emotionally mature enough to handle that in the context of a meaningful relationship."

"Right. So I'm not good enough for her," Jack muttered and went back to staring at the table.

"That's not what I said," Olivia shrugged. "But if that's the way you want to take it …"

And it got daggers shot her way.

"The apartment – the Upper West Side – is that about whatever is going on with you and Renee?"

He just shook his head and shrugged. "Forget about it. It doesn't matter anymore."

And Olivia exhaled pure frustration. "Jack, what is going on with you?" He just sat there. "What Jack?" she pressed harder. "Renee? Benji? Your job? I don't know anymore. But I do know I feel like we've got the point that I'm able to help you. I know you don't see Dr. Lindstrom anymore. But, Jack – I think you should be seeing someone. Before this gets even more out of hand."

His eyes found hers again. They looked vacant – sad. "You blame me for everything."

Another frustrated sound fell out of her and she rubbed at her eyebrow staring at him. "I certainly blame you – am holding you accountable – for the way you've been acting toward us lately, Jack. Is that everything? I don't know. I don't think so."

"You blame me for Ben," he said flatly.

Olivia sat back in the booth and stared at him – harshly. "Jack, I feel a lot of frustration and anger with you right now for how you're treating him. And how that's making him feel. For the triggers it's setting off in his life. Some of the insecurities and nightmares and anxieties and traumas that we're having to revisit. That I'm fielding questions from him about if you hate him or why you hate him. But, if you're suggesting that I 'blame you' for his health, I don't know where that's coming from."

"You do … I can tell. The way you look at me – at him."

And Olivia shook her head staring at the ceiling again. "Jack, if there's anyone I blame right now it's me. That I took so long to hear him out. That I didn't press for more answers sooner. That I pinned it on anxieties about bullying making him complain he wasn't feeling well as a way to skip school and growing pains and too many sports and too late of nights and a fair-skinned little boy who just had skin sensitivities and allergies we hadn't entirely pinpointed yet. That's on me. I should've been more … diligent as his mother. And, even that, Jack – blaming myself – is a waste of time. Because it wouldn't have changed the fact he has lupus – we just might've caught it earlier."

"You blame that he has it on me. On my family."

"Yes, it has occurred to me that there might be a genetic component or that some of his exposures and treatment as a baby left his immune system at a deficit. But, again, playing the blame game really gets me no where, Jack. I don't have time for it. Benji needs me investing my time and energy in other places rather than playing some guessing game about who's felt it is or what might've triggered it. The doctors and scientists and researchers can't even tell us with any certainty."

And he stared at her – quiet and sad. "You didn't answer about what the immuno-modulator does …?"

She sighed. "I don't have a degree in pharmacology. But the best I can understand is that this one interacts with certain receptors in his nervous system – in his brain – and it promotes healing of the immune system and helps release endorphins in a way that changes the way his body interprets pain."

"That sounds terrifying …" Jack said. "Like a real drug."

Olivia exhaled and sat there. She didn't want to get into that discussion with him. It was an ongoing discussion – and debate – between her and Brian about which medications they were willing to try Benji on. What implications these kinds of medications could have long term when being put into a child's body. About concerns when Benji's biological mother at least had a history of substance abuse problems – and the potential being on neurological modifying medications on a developing brain – could have on their little boy.

"Is it helping …?" Jack asked when she hadn't said anything.

She rubbed her eyebrow. "We don't know yet. He'll go in for some lab work after he's been on it for a month."

"But does it seem to be helping …? Like … he's … tolerating it OK?"

"He's had some flu-like symptoms," she said flatly. "We were told to expect that in the first couple weeks. And it's giving him vivid dreams. So he'd been in our bed most nights this week. They both have."

"So I guess you're tired …" Jack muttered.

"Yes," Olivia acknowledged. "None of us are sleeping that well right now."

He glanced at her. "Are you letting him go out for Halloween?"

"Yes," she said. "If he feels well enough."

"But he can't eat anything …"

She shrugged. "Well, we've traded their candy for a toy or book or craft supplies for the past four years. So I don't think he'll notice too much. He'll still get a treat."

"What's are they being?" Jack asked quietly.

And she rubbed her eyebrow again. "We're still working on getting them to nail that down. We'll get it locked in this weekend."

His head bobbed a bit. "You doing anything?"

"Likely," she allowed. His eyes came up to stare at her – to question her. "We haven't gone to pick their pumpkins yet. There's lots of street festivals and crafts happening around town."

"Maybe I can come …?" he asked.

"I don't think we're there yet, Jack," she said flatly.

His eyes stayed on her – sadder. "When will we be?" he asked.

"You tell me, Jack …"

Because she really didn't know. But it really didn't feel like they were moving much closer to closing that gap and finding that meeting point. And right now she didn't know how to get there – or what concessions to make. What was best for her and what was best for Benji and Emmy and what was best for Jack. Or how to reconcile all those wants and needs.

Parenting … it wasn't easy. And she was learning that it never was going to be. There was no clear path and no clear answers. Most of the time you were just wandering around the forest – bumping into the trees.


	19. Sick of It

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

Olivia inwardly sighed as she felt Brian shift in the bed – toward her. She knew that he knew she was laying there still away and this was undoubtedly going to be him testing the waters.

She lay stiller. She closed her eyes tighter. She prayed her body language would emit that there wasn't any point in him even testing the waters. That it would just radiate right off her – and Brian would take the hint.

But he didn't.

He nudged up to her. His chest pressing lightly into her back – and that in itself felt nice. And she might've allowed it if his arm had wrapped around her waist and he'd just held her. But it didn't. His hand moved to rest on her hip for a long moment and then – predictably – his mouth pressed against her shoulder.

She let a little sound escape at that. She supposed it could've been construed as a moan – but it was more like a quiet groan. A bigger – internal – one as his hand moved and reached to brush her hair away from her neck and his lips found the curve of it. Then they found that spot just below her ear. And Olivia hummed a little in the next groan – that had nudged a bit more toward a restrained moan that time.

But she still put a stop to it. "Bri, I'm so tired," she put flatly.

His lips stayed briefly where they were – just above her skin. She could feel his breath there. Warm and almost moist in their proximity.

"OK …," he said under this breath. Loosely and lightly.

And he shifted slightly - away from her but settling next to her – cradled behind her. And he let out an exhale that sounded more defeated than frustrated. And his hand fell back to rest on her hip again.

"I just want to try to get a couple hour in before Benji's awake …," she provided.

Because she knew it'd been a while – for them. They'd had kids in their bed for pushing two weeks. They'd been exhausted and clung to and utterly lacking in any kind of privacy. But sex truly hadn't even entered her mind as something she was remotely interested in that night. Even if it had been a couple weeks since they'd had much more than pecked cheeks as they went out the door in the mornings. Sleep was about the only thing her body wanted. Unfortunately, though, it wasn't the only thing her mind was thinking about. It was churning and she was having trouble getting it to turn off – to calm. To find something resembling mindfulness to draw her into the moment. Or to completely vacate and still her mind.

"I know," he gravelled behind her again, though. "It's OK."

Though, she knew it likely wasn't. That Brian was likely initiating for a reason. She knew him – and his moves – more than well enough to know that his approach hadn't been his technique when he just wanted – or needed – to get off. He wasn't looking to fuck after their little, kid-induced dry spell. He was looking for something else – distraction, validation or comfort. And, these days, Olivia more than understood needing some – or all – of that.

And to farther prove that point, he still didn't move any farther from her. And this wasn't a position they routinely curled into to sleep. There were times she wanted to be help – though she usually preferred to be the one doing the holding. But the bigger issue was that she really despised waking to the realization there was an erection pressed against her – if Brian managed to fall asleep in that position too. It could startle her – and trigger her. They'd had some moments where the way she'd jumped awake had ultimately triggered both of them and sent them off-kilter for a bit. She didn't want to add that to the teetering she could feel both of them – all four of them, really – doing.

"You OK?" she asked.

"Yea," he mumbled more into where his head had slumped into her pillow than into her hair. And he paused and she could almost feel his eyes drifting open and staring at the back of her head. "It OK if I just hold you for a while?"

And Olivia breathed in and out – several breaths. But then she shifted slightly in his loose grip and rolled over to her other side so she was facing him. His hand moved to let her completely the manoeuvre and when she did, his arm more completely found its way around her waist. His finger tips brushed – and almost drew light patterns – at the base of her back. Tickling against her spine and the sensitive skin. Their legs adjusted and tangled a bit. She found the perfect place – her go-to spot – to nestle her cold feet wedged against his one calf and the opposite shin.

Brian let out a little noise at the touch. And she smiled a little at him – reaching to stroke at the semi-permanent scurf he sported more times than not anymore.

Brian always gave her something that resembled an unimpressed groan when her cold flesh found his warm skin. He really was a furnace. If he wasn't complaining about her taking advantage of the heat he put off – he was making quips about how her ice blocks were just a confirmation she was, in fact, Benji's mother and that nature and nurture had some kind of crossover they'd never really understand. Benji had the same ice blocks as her – and he'd more than adopted her Daddy's A Foot Warmer manoeuvre whenever he was flopped on the couch with Brian watching sports. He'd also made clear that the past two weeks Benji planting himself in their bed after the apparently terrifyingly vivid dreams he was having wasn't just the cause of lost sleep. It was those pointy knees and heels and elbows – and ice cold feet that he was jolting into the both of them in his tossing and turning.

"Brian, what's wrong?" she mouthed softly at him, still rubbing her thumb down his cheek and staring into his eyes. He looked so tired – and bordering on defeated – too.

"Nothing," he muttered.

Olivia gave him a small frown and he let out a slow exhale. It sounded even more drained than he looked in that moment. His fingers pressed a bit more into her back – like he was almost trying to find something to grip onto. Something to help him keep any kind of grip. She'd been feeling the same way lately. It was a struggle to keep it all in focus and in perspective. To compartmentalize. To be the job and the mother and the wife and the boss. And all the other sub-titles she'd acquired under each of those categories.

"Know what Ben said to me today?" he put to her flatly.

She allowed a small smile at that. "What?" she barely mouthed.

"That he should be a Fire Investigator because then basically he can be a scientist-firefighter with handcuffs."

Olivia really did smile at that. "He's funny," she said and gripped at Brian's bicep – because she could see his face changing … falling.

"Yea, he is," Brian said – and she could hear the change in his voice too. "Like you." And his hand left her back and those fingers that had been there instead pressed harshly into his eyes – and the watering she'd watch begin to glisten there in the dim light spilling into the room from the street.

"It's OK," she hushed at him and gently reached to tug his hand away from what he was doing. He wasn't going to be helping with the dark circles – the exhaustion – he had under his eyes these days by doing that.

And Brian just stared at her. She could feel him struggling to keep his emotions in check. It was tremoring just below the surface of his skin.

"And then he goes: 'Dad, then I'd be the one true Bad-Ass Benson. Cassidy." And his voice broke – rattled – a bit again as he said it.

But Olivia allowed a quiet laugh and squeezed at his bicep some more – trying to help him calm. "I hope you claimed some allowance coinage with that utterance."

"Nah," Brian said. "How could I? Kid had a point."

She smiled at him and just kept rubbing her thumb in its place. But Brian's eyes glassed a bit more again.

"And I don't have the fucking first clue how to even start telling the kid that firefighter, cop – Fire Investigator – none of it, it's not in the cards for him."

"I know," Olivia mouthed. "I don't either. But he's still – he'll always be – pretty bad-ass."

Brian snorted out something that was caught between a sob and a laugh. And his hand again went back to press into his eyes. Olivia caught his pinkie with hers and again tugged the hand away. His eyes still looked glassy but he'd managed to hold the tears back.

"Sorry," he muttered at her.

"It's OK," she said again.

"I'm just so fucking tired …" he rasped off into nothing and not at her in particular.

"Me too," she allowed.

And they stared at each other. His hand moved back to her waist and hers moved to trace along his jaw line and thread through the short hair on the back of his neck.

"Babe …," he finally said hesitantly.

Olivia just hummed acknowledgement that she was still there, still awake, still listening.

"I'm feeling like Jack's waging some real emotional warfare on us right now. And it's sending all of us out of sync. I can feel it." And his fingers gripped at her back a bit more again – pressing more firmly. And she knew he was unconsciously presenting the tension – the pressure – he felt in his being, in his chest with all that was going on.

"I feel it too …," she conceded.

"Really, Liv, the shit he's lobbing at us. It's like it's making me suspect – even more – a shitload of shit about his past."

"I know," she acknowledged again. "I've been going there too …"

"Yea, but it's got me getting all reflective on my own crap. And it's got me worrying about shit maybe he's not told us about Ben either."

"Bri," she sighed. "I don't think—"

"Yea," he rasped and his voice tripped a bit again. "But, you didn't see it with me. Maybe neither of us really saw it with Jack. Or were in denial or whatever. And if shit was going on—"

"There were definitely – DEFINITELY - things going on," Olivia acknowledged. "And Benji may have witnessed or heard things he shouldn't have ever had to. But, Brian, I TRULY don't believe anyone ever – EVER – touched him in that way."

He just stared at her. He was shaking now. She could feel it and she nudged a bit closer to him – holding him a bit more tightly. And pressed a 'shh' softly against his collarbone. She felt his breathing – his nose pressed – into the crown of her head, buried in her hair.

"He's triggering me, Liv," Brian whispered there. "All of this colliding together – whatever the fuck is going on with him. My shit. Ben's health. Work. Trying to not project and compartmentalize. Jack's bullshit is pushing me over the edge here. The fucking – whatever kind of inventory he's trying to do of our sex life or of Lewis or I don't even fucking know."

"I know …," she acknowledged.

"The little fucking comments on how I parent."

Olivia pressed her lips into his collarbone. "Bri, I don't care what he thinks of you as a parent. He's not the parent. He's not the one dealing with any of this – Benji or Emily. We are. And – I think – you are a wonderful, supportive father and the kids are incredibly luck you're their daddy."

He exhaled into her hair again. "Yea, but his whole attitude makes me feel like I'm the cause – me being part of this family, or your spouse, or the kids' dad – is like the cause of whatever kind of derailment he's got himself sparking down."

"Brian, I think we both know that's not – you're not – the cause or the reason for how he's acting. You're just an easy target for him. You always have been."

"And that's fucking bullshit," Brian spat more firmly. "And I'm so sick of fighting with him. I've fucking tried, Liv. I've reached out. I've given him the benefit of the doubt."

"I know you have. I have too. I'm frustrated too."

"Yea, but I just feel fucking done," he muttered. "I mean … what the fuck?"

"I just don't know what I'm supposed to do about it, Brian," she sighed. "I feel all of it – everything you've said – too. But what am I supposed to do? We've been holding him at arm's length for a month … more."

"Yea – because every time we try to bring him back into the fold he goes and pulls another fucking stunt and sends all of us fucking spinning on our heads, Liv," Brian pressed.

"And yet," she muttered and sighed. She rested her forehead against his chest for a long beat – inhaling and exhaling slowly, trying to center herself. "Brian, some switch isn't going to flip in him. And keeping him away for much longer is really going to affect his relationship with the kids. It already is."

"Yea, it already is," Brian said with an edge of anger again. "And, Liv, I'm sick of dealing with the fall out of that too. It's like when the Family Court judge goes and decides that having some contact with the abusive, neglectful parent is in the 'best interest' of the child. That's bullshit too. And they aren't the ones having to deal with the emotional and behavioural fallout after every fucking visit."

She sighed and backed away from him a bit – gazing up at him. She didn't know how to argue with him. She felt the same way. She was dealing with the tantrums and meltdowns and barrage of heart-breaking questions and commentary after every interaction Benji was having with Jack. And it wasn't just Benji – it was at the point that it was spilling over to Emmy and she was confused and concerned too. And it was getting harder and harder to explain. And she knew it would be harder and harder to fix – with both of the kids. These weren't toddlers who might forgive and forget. Benji and Emily both had some kind of understanding of what was going on – and they were feeling it. It was confusing and hurting them. And both those children had enough hurt in their life.

"I've been thinking about reaching out to Renee," Olivia said.

"What's that going to accomplish?" Brian put to her. "Beyond dragging us farther into his pile of shit."

"I don't know," Olivia muttered. "Maybe … she has some other perspective on what's going on with him."

"What's going on with him is that he's having some kind of quarter-life crisis where he thought life was suddenly going to get easier and be handed to him on some kind of silver platter," Brian said. "And he's fucking refusing to grow up and take responsibility for anything and just wants us to solve everything and anything for him while whining about how fucking hard his childhood was. And we're the wrong fucking people to be crying to."

Olivia exhaled. "Well, maybe Renee will have some ideas on how to help him move beyond that pity-party."

"She's the wrong fucking person to be boo-hoo'ing to too," Brian muttered.

And Olivia sighed. "I've thought about asking Cragen to talk to him too."

Brian made a small sound at that – one that indicated he didn't particularly like that idea either. But the conversation was broken by the sound of feet hitting the floor down the hall in the kids' room. And they both let out a quiet sigh. Brian's forehead came to rest against hers for a beat – as they listened. But they didn't have to listen long. Benji's footsteps were clearly padding cautiously toward their room.

Olivia sighed again – her eyes closing briefly, reminding her for the sleep she had so wanted. But Brian did shift away from her then.

"I've got him," he said, moving to rise from the bed.

"You're sure?" she murmured.

"Yea," he gravelled, finding a tshirt he'd left draped on their armchair to pull on with his briefs. "I'll take him down to watch some TV. I'm not going to sleep anyway."

But Olivia knew she wouldn't be sleeping either.

**Feedback and reviews are always appreciated.**


	20. No Easy Fix

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

"I appreciate that you agreed to meet with me," Olivia offered.

Renee had been sitting across from her in the agreed-upon coffee shop bouncing a tea bag up and down in her cup of hot water and effectively avoiding eye contact. But the girl – young woman – found her eyes then and gave her a little shrug.

"I'm worried about him too," Renee said.

Olivia allowed a weak smile at that and cupped her own mug – of coffee, even though she knew she probably shouldn't be drinking it that late. But also didn't expect to find anything resembling sleep any time soon.

"Don't want to at least pretend for a minute this is about a referral?" she teased.

And it got another little shrug out of Renee. "You would've talked to me – or my supervisor – over the phone about that. Or sent over Sonny."

"Got me …" Olivia acknowledged. It got a thin smile out of the young woman. "I really would like to hear how you're doing in the position. If you're liking it? If it's still what you want? Or is going the way you hoped?"

And a small shrug popped out of Renee again. "It's a job," she allowed. "There's things I really like about and things I don't. I'm not sure I want to be doing it for the next twenty years, though. But I'm not really supposed to talk about my clients or case files …"

"No, you're not …," Olivia allowed.

Renee gazed into her tea again for a long beat. The girl had declined Olivia's offer to buy her a sandwich or soup or pastry – something a bit more substantial. It was likely an indication of how short Renee hoped to keep this meeting despite agreeing to meet her. But maybe that was for the best. Olivia supposed in a way she wanted to keep this as short as possible too. And as non-awkward as possible – if that was even possible at this point.

Brian had still discouraged her from scheduling this meeting. He didn't know what it was going to accomplish. But she also knew that Brian had pretty much entered lockdown mode. He had all but thrown in the towel for the moment. And, she could appreciate that too. Olivia felt like she was getting close to that point too. But she also knew she couldn't be another person – another woman, mother-figure – who gave up on Jack. Or that he perceived it that way.

The problem was that either way – whether she kept trying to get through to him or whether she distanced herself from him for the moment – it was going to have severe implications on Benji. And, really – that was what she was more worried about right now. Getting Jack back to a more mentally and emotionally stable place would just be a nice bonus. But she was also at the point where she was starting to reluctantly accept that that just wasn't going to be how Jack operated. He was too scarred. Or too much of a victim? And he just wasn't ready to accept help – or, more importantly, he wasn't ready to help himself.

And pushing 26 years old – that wasn't likely going to change. Not in a real way. Not until something happened that pushed him to rock bottom. Olivia just didn't want to think what that rock bottom might look like. She had to focus on him not pulling her family down into that hole with him. But that was breaking her heart in other ways. There was no right way to make this better. There were going to be losses however this got resolved. There already was collateral damage.

And she really just didn't understand – and she wanted to. She couldn't fathom what had transpired between now and the summer that had caused them to tumble back toward this version of Jack again. This actually was one of the worst incarnations of Jack she'd witnessed. And it hurt when it'd seemed like he had really grown-up and was really trying with the kids and to be part of the family and to be more of a man.

But she couldn't – she refused – to treat him like a chid anymore. Like a teenager or a college student. Brian was right – Cragen was right – twenty-six – it was grown. Twenty-six – they were long graduated and in their Blues and walking a beat and working on getting their hours and promotions to get their shields. They had apartments and expenses and bills and debts they were responsible for. They were adults. And so was Jack – even though he couldn't seem to grasp that. He'd grown up too fast and it'd somehow stunted him.

Even with the lost years of guidance and parenting he'd had – he'd had time to try to heal and regain his footing and enter adulthood with some stability and a safety net under him. That was the best she could do. She'd tried her best. And now?

"I'd been wanting to call," Renee finally said and gave Olivia another look. "Benji's birthday was just … I'm sorry …"

Olivia gave her head a little shake. "You don't need to apologize," Olivia interjected. "Maybe it's us who really should be apologizing to you.

"It was just so … awkward," Renee muttered regretfully. "I've felt so badly about that – for him."

"Renee, it was nothing you did. Brian or I should've tried more to … make you feel welcome. Benji was just … he was being distant and rude to his grandparents too and we were trying to manage that."

"I know," Renee acknowledged. "I could tell. I just felt like … I should leave but I didn't really know how to without making it worse than it was."

Olivia shook her head. "He really was just having a really bad day – physically. He was upset and frustrated that it wasn't going the way he'd hoped. So he was cantankerous," Olivia provided.

The word choice got a small smile out of Renee. "Sounds like Jack …" she mouthed quietly.

Olivia allowed a thin smile at reference. Though, it didn't really make her that happy. There were definite moments where she felt like she was getting – or had previously gotten – glimpses of the teenager and young man that Benji would become some day. And – lately – there were a lot of times she didn't like that too much.

"Nature or nurture …" she allowed.

The constant question that her and Brian seemed to examine. The social experiment that it sometimes felt like their family was. Sometimes that scared her too. She only had to look at her own past – maybe Brian's, maybe Jack's – to have all sorts of more questions (and a few more answers than she likely really wanted) about how nature and nurture played out in the end.

"It was Benji just being Benji," Olivia sighed instead. "I think Jack sometimes forgets that – and how he is with people he isn't close to."

Renee's head bobbed along with her tea at that comment. "I know," she conceded. "And I know his childhood wasn't any kind of fairy tale, but I think sometimes he's kind of in denial about how much worse his nephew's was in those formative years and how that can shape you and stay with you."

Olivia exhaled a bit and frowned – thin-lipped. "I often feel that way too," she allowed.

Renee gave her a bit of her own frown. "Can I ask how Benji's doing? Jack never seems to be able to tell me much when I do ask. But I think about him – all of you – going through all of that a lot."

"Well, as discussed: Jack seems to prefer hearing and knowing as little as possible," Olivia sighed and sat back a bit in the chair in the not-so-quiet corner of the very busy café that Renee had flagged as a convenient space to meet in for this talk. It might be convenient but it was only so private. Less so in that they were hardly speaking in anything that could be classified as hushed tones for this conversation.

"Yeah …," Renee acknowledged flatly and a little sadly. Her eyes drifted back to her tea, which she hadn't even taken a sip from yet.

"I do call him after every appointment," Olivia provided.

"I know," Renee said and gave her another weak smile. It clearly indicated she didn't expect to hear much more about it. But, in all honesty, beyond to a select few Olivia never knew what to really say about it. "I've been with him for some of the calls. I know he basically just sits there mute as you update him."

Olivia sighed a little at that – but it did capture the experience. It was like talking to a brick wall most of the time. Sometimes she had to check to see if he was even still on the line and had heard anything she'd said. He just seemed to shutdown. It made trying to have any conversation with him about it increasingly harder. She'd become more selective about what she did tell him. And if he didn't ask questions – she didn't provide additional information or context. At least he'd tried earlier in the week – and it hadn't been confrontational – but it'd also felt a bit like too little, too late.

It was another wedge between Benji and his uncle – because even to the little boy it felt more and more like Jack just didn't understand or want to understand. It made Benji hide things – and forced him to try to put on a show for Jack when he did show up too to try to disguised the fact he was 'sick'. It was a waste of energy and usually pushed Benji more toward exhaustion – or at least emotional volatility, if not an outright meltdown – by the time Jack left. And it was getting exhausting for all of them to deal with that too. They only had so much room and energy in their lives these days. And Jack just seemed to be demanding fuel from them on so many levels that just wasn't there.

"Benji's doing really well over-all," she managed to offer, though, since Renee did express some interest and concern. "And we're keeping our options open with the treatment we're trying. And our eyes open – autumn, winter – it can be rough, apparently. Cold and flu season. But he's doing well on the medication he is on. Not entirely as well as the doctors would like – but well. There's been improvements."

Renee nodded a little. "I'm really glad to know he's hanging in there so far. I know … things have been rough for him …"

And the context was there – that pause. Olivia knew Renee could empathize – that she understood that it wasn't just now that things were rough for him. That Benji had been handed a life that was a little rougher than some. He'd had a rough start – likely from in-utero – and no matter the kind of home and childhood her and Brian gave him now there were parts of that they could never fix and parts of that that would never truly heal.

"Renee," Olivia tried gently and evenly, "I really don't want to insert myself into your and Jack's relationship – but I was really hoping you could help me understand where you two are at."

Renee made a quiet noise that was somewhere between amusement and regret. "It's OK," she said quietly. "I know that you aren't the biggest fan of us being together."

Olivia sighed a little and held at her mug. "It's not that I'm opposed to the relationship," she said. "It's that I know the way Jack can be—"

"A really nice, smart, fun guy …" Renee said flatly. So flatly that Olivia knew they both weren't buying it and she stooped a bit to find the girl's eyes.

"Until that cloud comes over him," Olivia said, "and then he can be a really dark, sometimes mean and rather depressed young man – who I'm not sure he has the maturity level that you deserve."

It got another quiet sound of recognition out of Renee and their eyes broke away from each other's. "I'm not sure where we're at right now," the young woman acknowledged quietly.

Olivia sat back a bit and watched Renee finally take a sip of her tea. "Renee, if you've told him you'd like a break or to break-up – and he's not hearing you – I can talk to him," she said.

Renee shook her head a bit as she sat the mug back down. "It's not like that."

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow. "I know in his previous relationship, I think he had trouble hearing it was over or maybe she wasn't being firm enough or clear enough with him because of his periods of darkness. But if—"

But Renee shook her head again. "It's not like that either. Yet," she said. "He knows we … have some things to work on. But right now we're trying to work on it."

Olivia sat and watched the girl. Renee fidgeted a bit and worked at taking more sips of her tea.

"I want you to know, Renee, that whatever happens to this relationship, it's not going to affect our relationship professionally or personally," she said.

It got another little noise and the mug came down. Renee gave her a sympathetic look. "It already has," she said pointedly.

Olivia sighed a little at that. But Renee only shrugged again.

"For what it's worth," she said, "I had wanted to tell you we were seeing each other way sooner. And, I really do see Jack as one of the good guys – when he's in a good place. I know he isn't in one right now. But, honestly, he has been a good friend and support to me. I do like being around him. I have fun with him. Usually …"

Olivia offered a thin smile at that. "Then, sweetheart, you should also know that the longer you spend with someone the more you're likely to feel like you're somehow responsible for them," she said and gave her head a little shake. "But Jack is not your responsibility – and there are a lot of parts of his life right now that he needs to take his own responsibility for. That's not on you."

"I know …," Renee acknowledged. But there was a weakness to it.

And it left Olivia concerned again – because she knew that Renee had positioned herself in a job, a career, where she had dedicated herself to helping victims. It would be very easy for Jack to become a victim she was trying to help. And there reached a point in your life that that could become so all encompassing that you forgot to live – to live your own life and look out for yourself. To take care of yourself. To remember your needs and hopes and wants and dreams too – and to accept they were just as valid. That you were allowed to walk away.

"You need to take care of yourself too," Olivia put to her. "And, it's very hard to help someone who doesn't want to help themselves."

"I know," she acknowledged again. And her eyes that time confirmed she knew that all too well. And Olivia knew she did. But Renee had found ways to help herself – to pull up out of that hole she'd been cast down into and to move forward without a whole lot of support.

"Has he said anything to you about what's going on with him? What kind of help he needs?" Olivia tried.

And Renee sighed a little and looked into her tea again. "It's not really my place to say …"

Olivia exhaled at that. "Jack has always held back with me," she provided. "He only tells me what he thinks I need to know or want to hear. Everything has always been piecemeal. There's some areas where he – previously – would give a bit more information to Brian. But right now," she shook her head, "he's giving us nothing. And what he does spout off to us is inappropriate or confrontational and just raising a lot of red flags. We don't know what triggered him. We don't know how to help him either. And, I'm sure you've noticed or heard, we're holding him at arm's length right now. Brian's at the end of his rope with it – and I'm getting there too."

Renee stared at her for a long beat but then sighed out, "I don't think it's just one thing – specifically. It's more like he's overwhelmed and he's shutting down because feeling that way it bringing up … lots of stuff that he either doesn't know how to deal with or isn't ready to deal with."

Olivia sighed a little and rubbed at her eyebrow. That wasn't exactly a conclusion she hadn't drawn herself. And it didn't really offer a solution to anything either. But it'd likely been both unfair and unrealistic that this meeting would yield any of that.

"I really need some way – or some guidance – on how to get through to him," Olivia shook her head and then looked apologetically at the girl. "The distance – and his attitude – it's really affecting his relationship with Benji. And I know Jack thinks his nephew was a little boy and doesn't remember much – but he does remember. And what's going on – what Jack's bringing into our home or not showing up at our home – is triggering a lot in my son too. We're already at a point that I don't know how to easily mend this for him – them. And if it does on too much longer – two months we'll be at Christmas. If we can't come to some understanding as a family, if we can't start finding a way to fix this and he doesn't show up – I don't know we'll be able to fix it."


	21. Hold On

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

************CONTENT WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS AN M. WHERE THE M BEGINS IS MARKED. IT CONTINUES FROM THAT POINT TO THE END OF THE CHAPTER. SKIP IF ADVISABLE/NECESSARY.****************

Olivia sat up a bit straighter from where she was propped up in her bed, absorbed in the never-ending paperwork of her job as she heard the front door of the townhouse open downstairs.

She waited – the click of the lock and the turning of the knob and then the six steady beeps as the security code was input into the alarm. And she let herself exhale through pursed lips as it did. She waited again for the next steps: the closing of the door and the clicking of the bolt back into place and the single long tone as the alarm was reset for the night. It was only then she could hear the movement – the weight and heaviness and gait of it – and confirm in her mind and being that it was just Brian.

With another slow exhale she reached for her phone and gazed at the time. It was past 11:30 – pushing toward midnight. It'd been close to two hours since Brian had sent her a text to let her know he was finally starting to pack up and would be headed home.

The caseload his team was working on investigating these days was beyond heavy – and he was short staffed. The Investigator's Office had dragged their heels on filling the spot that Erin Lindsay had left vacant when she'd finally made official that past spring that she wouldn't be returning to New York from her maternity leave – and wouldn't be reclaiming the position that had been held for her for that first year. But it seemed like it just wasn't a slot that could be filled. Apparently the kind of caseload – not just the number of files open at any one time but the actually kind of investigations the team worked on – had preceded it. It wasn't the gravy train, post-NYPD retirement slot that a lot of cops hoped for.

The human trafficking – the sex trafficking, child violation, and often deep Dark Web cases – that these investigators got handed to check and recheck in getting the perpetrators before the court in ensuring there was not just a case against them but a conviction for the DA's office – weren't any kind of holiday while still bringing in a pay check for the last five or ten years of a career before you made your retirement official. The investigative unit had almost become as much of a piranha as Special Victims Unit was in some ways.

The cops that found their way in there as investigators were there for a reason. Some of them it was because they really deeply cared or because that was the area they'd become specialized in while working in Vice or U.C. and had maybe hoped to get out of the U.C. assignments that saw them smack in the midst of the life. Maybe they hoped that being in the Investigator's office would still let them be cops while also giving them a bit more normal schedule so they could be home to see their kids and have time with their family. Then there were the other cops – the younger ones who were just looking to make their leap into the Investigator's office sooner. They saw it was a gig they'd have for a year or two and then move on to another Investigative unit – or maybe a task force or even the Feds.

Brian's team had a mix. When he'd been allowed to be involved in the hiring he'd focused on pulling in experienced detectives who were maybe in their late-30s to early-40s. Olivia knew it'd gone unstated in the process – but he had often favored men and women who had kids at home. And he'd tried to create the kind of environment he wanted. One where his staff got home more nights than not. One where there was a work-life-family balance.

But it was still hard to keep them there. The young man who'd filled in on Lindsay's leave had opted not even to apply for the spot full-time, permanent – even when he was nearly guaranteed to get it assuming that someone who outranked him hadn't called in favors. And now another investigator in the unit had eaten their gun barely a month earlier. Indications were that it had little to do with the job – and the soul-crushing cases they came into contact with – but that hadn't stopped lips from flapping about just how bad it really was over on the DA's Human Trafficking Investigative Unit. And it had done nothing for morale of those left – or to help applications for the open positions to roll in. Olivia didn't think the latest opening had even been posted yet. The DA's office – and union, and Brian's team – was still dealing with navigating the fallout of that loss. And in the interim they were even more short staffed.

There'd been a lot of nights that Brian had been working later. He'd been bringing more work home with him – and actually doing it even if it was in front of a hockey game with a beer in his one hand. And he'd even had to go into the office for a few hours the past Saturday. The backlog of paperwork – and the amount of time he was spending in the box with these perps and with the victims and their families – was eating at him. Even supervising some of the interviews, Olivia could see was wearing him down. He wasn't saying a lot about it – but she knew the team was dealing with one rougher than usual. One that involved children – runaways and a local sex ring that turned these children into slaves and broadcast their perverted atrocities by request. Brian was having to interact with a lot of broken tweens and teens – with vacant eyes. And there'd been nights were Brian's eyes were looking just as empty. Olivia knew the look.

She'd worried a bit when he hadn't appeared within about an hour of telling her he was headed home. But she also didn't bug him about it. She knew that if something was headed into the courtroom that the ADA was likely working late too and might've grabbed him with an unexpected request or a last minute panic attack about some piece of evidence or statement that had come up in the interviews – that either didn't fit with the case they were mounting or was missing entirely and might cost them the trial. But she also knew that it was just as likely that Brian had needed some time to unwind before coming home – depending on the case. That he might've stopped at the bar and might've stayed if there were people he knew or he wasn't in the headspace to return to family life – as the family man they needed him to be while he was there. Or more likely – he'd swung by John's. He would frame it as he was checking in on how Munch was doing. But really – it was more he needed a rabbi that night – and Olivia was just glad he was talking to someone. She wasn't sure John was the best therapist in the world – but at least he was a shoulder to lean on and he seemed to be able to talk sense to Brian and connect with him. And that was important.

Olivia had almost expected Brian to stay downstairs. To hear him retrieve a beer from the fridge and pop off the cap. To hear the television come on at whatever volume her and the kids had left it at – only for him to turn it down to the point it might as well be muted. And for him to sit there in the dark staring at the sports updates until he'd managed to calm himself enough that he felt he could come upstairs and maybe sleep. And some nights lately that didn't really seem to happen.

But the front door had barely completed its locking cycle before she heard his footsteps move from their small vestibule of a foyer and into their main living space – his feet coming up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, though, he didn't turn toward their room. Instead he padded down the hall and she could nearly feel him leaning in the frame of the kids' bedroom door. It was several long minutes – enough for her to turn her eyes back to her files and her own paperwork – before he moved toward their space.

The door eased open and he appeared. He gazed at her. But she wasn't much to look at in that moment. Her minimal amount of makeup was washed off for the day. Her hair was pulled back to keep it out of her face while she sat in bed trying to get a bit more of her own work done. She'd changed hours ago – her bra long gone and her unsupported breasts were only hidden by an old, oversized tank. Only to be complimented with a pair of Brian's sweats that she'd pretty much claimed as her own. They were too oversized for him right now but the rolled over waistband managed to hang low on her hips just about right even if the crotch still seemed to hang halfway to her knees and the legs were baggy. But they were soft and comfy – and warm for sleeping, especially on the nights where Brian didn't come up to bed at the same time as her and she was able to seep some of his body heat until her cocoon in the blankets warmed up. She'd give him that as much as she hated some of his attire choices, he knew how to pick lounge wear. A simple pleasure after the kind of days their jobs yielded more days than not, it seemed.

"Long day," she mouthed at him quietly.

"A bitch of a day," he mumbled.

And that was it. His eyes took her in for another long moment and then he started to undress. It was unrushed but purposeful – and purposefully sloppy. As his shirt and tie got pulled off together – unbuttoned – and tossed in the general direction of the hamper off behind him in the open walk-in. It was joined by his undershirt – peeled from his body. His belt undone and his pants dropped – more ripping the bunched legs from his ankles while he jointly shucked off his socks and just kicked all the fabrics toward the closet before ducking back toward their door and pressing it shut until her heard its latch click into place too.

Olivia watched him – and his movements – for a moment, measuring them. But then gathered her files and paperwork and phone from how she had it spread across the bed within easy reach. And she set them over on the nightstand just as Brian pulled back the duvet on his side and more fell than crawled in next to her. Still, he leaned into her and claimed a peck. His low-paid striper act almost made her expect more but initially there wasn't. It was her who stared at him – his lips – and found them again for a longer kiss.

They broke – and they looked at each other. She watched his eyes – still measuring him. They were exhausted and a little sad – but not as empty as they were some nights as he fought to compartmentalize so he could be who and how he thought he needed to be when he came in that door as a spouse and a Daddy.

"Did the kids stir?" she whispered at him.

He gave his head a little shake and she saw his eyes take more of her in. He leaned in for another kiss but it was light and short too – and rather than linger he broke away and settled against the pillows she'd gathered around herself to sit propped up.

"When'd they go down?" he asked.

"It was about 8:30," she allowed.

He made a little noise and pressed a heel of his one hand into his eyes rubbing at them. She could tell he was measuring time and space they had before potential – and likely – witching hours against any needs he had, including the exhaustion that was radiating from him. So she nudged closer to him and rested against his chest, wrapping her one arm loosely around him while his started tracing patterns on her shoulder and bicep.

"They good tonight?" he muttered a bit. But despite the mumbling she knew he'd want to know. He hated missing family time just as much as she did.

"Mmm …," she smiled a bit against his chest and moved her hand a little. Her fingers grazed at the puckered skin where the bullets had gone into him and just missed his heart. "Benji bombed a spelling test. Badly."

"I wish they wouldn't make him write those," Brian muttered again.

But she shrugged a little. Maybe she did too. But "It's good practice," she told him, which was true. It was. And the grading of it didn't really count toward his overall grade. But it still caused some stress and humiliation for their son. "He got invited to a party," she added and smiled a little more against his chest.

"Really?" Brian rumbled and looked down at her.

"Mmm …," she hummed against him again. "Laser tag."

"He'll fucking love that …," Brian said mutedly.

She again hummed some acknowledgement. "He doesn't know yet. The boy's mom cornered me at pick-up. I guess she'd clued into he's on an IEP and wanted to know if it wa something he could handle and participate in."

"Told her yes?"

"Yes, but I told her we're a little flakey," Olivia muttered. Brian made a noise of disagreement but acknowledgement. "She said that's OK. It's not really a party. They're just going as a family and inviting a couple friends. I don't get an impression this boy excels in that department either."

"Is Ben even friends with him?"

"It's Taylor," she said. A name they'd been hearing. And it got another grunt of acknowledgement.

"When is it?"

"Saturday after next," she allowed.

He made another noise and his hand went up to pressed at his exhausted eyes again. "My mom called today. At me about Thanksgiving."

Olivia sighed a little. "Can't even let us get a week into November …"

His hand found hers and laced with her fingers. He stared at them joined. "You thinking we want to host this year?"

"Mmm …," she groaned and buried her face against his chest. She could smell the day on him. Some musk, sweat and this staleness that betrayed hours that had likely been spent in the box – or at least its observation room. "I haven't even thought about it yet."

"Know if Cragen is sticking around or they headed back South?"

She exhaled and moved her hand from his to trace at some of his other surgical scars across his chest and abdomen. "They've been waiting on Benji getting to the top of the treatment list. I think they want to be around the week or so after that in case we need extra help."

Brian made a quiet acknowledgement. "So they'll be around at this point. Want to let them handle Turkey Day?"

"We have more space …," she muttered. One reality of getting the townhouse rather than being still in an apartment or condo was they they had pretty much become the default venue for … everything. In some ways she didn't mind. In other ways she did. Thanksgiving she wouldn't mind so much if she could delegate the majority of the cooking, which she likely could. "Did your union send out its Pre-Pre-Black Friday discounts blast today?" They usually ended up with the same ones – if slightly different promo codes.

"I don't know," Brian muttered. "I didn't click in if they did."

"Nets, the twenty-seventh," she said flatly. "Thirty-five bucks."

It got a small groan out of him. He usually preferred to take in a Knicks game if they got tickets. But the kind of discount that was being offered was really a beggars can't be choosers situation.

"Who are they playing?"

"Utah," she said.

Another sound and his hand up at his eyes again. "I'll think about it."

"Not too long," she provided. The discounted NYPD game packages always were scooped up quickly. There'd been other years they'd missed them. They might've already have since she hadn't been able to get a hold of him earlier in the day about that when the blast landed in her inbox.

"No Islanders?"

"No discount," she said. "Jersey package."

It got another sound out of him – frustrated – but his hand fell back down and traced at the bare skin of her arm some more.

"I can't fucking believe it's November and we're talking about Thanksgiving and Christmas shit already …"

"I know …," she acknowledged. "And Benji's school is doing their cookbook and cultural pot luck just before the holiday too. He wants to know what our family's 'traditional dish' is."

Brian snorted at that. "Belgian waffles?" he suggested.

She smiled against him for that suggestion. "I said apple crisp."

"Yea. That's a good one," Brian acknowledged.

"He decided it's not 'ethnic' enough. We are apparently going to pass ourselves off as Irish."

"Yea, well, it's not that much of a stretch."

Olivia hummed some acknowledgement.

"What about Em?" he muttered. "She co-operate for you tonight?"

"For me," Olivia acknowledged. "But she's added to her vocabulary again."

She felt Brian smile a bit against the side of head. "Yea?"

"There's a boy in her class named Benjamin Hickey. Apparently someone's older sibling has made sure they all know what a hickey is now – and she's decided that calling her brother a 'hickey' now is very funny."

"Great …," Brian muttered. "So they were being a pain in your ass tonight?"

She shook her head gently against him. "Compared to Rollins and Carisi – coming home to Benji and Emmy's bickering is a walk in the park."

His fingers stroked at her hair. "Rough day?"

She sighed against him. "The personal politics of the squad are more exhausting than the cases right now, Bri …"

"That why you've got your whole filing cabinet home with you?" he asked.

"I'm just trying to dig out from under the avalanche," she muttered.

It got another quiet hum of acknowledgement. But that was it and they just lay there – together – in silence for a bit. Her fingers running across the skin of his chest and abdomen. His up and down her arm in long strokes. It felt nice. Her nerve-endings were responding. Her body was – slowly.

"You want to talk about your day?" she asked.

He breathed in and out – purposefully. "It's a rough one," he finally said.

"I can tell," she acknowledged.

And it was quiet again. She waited. She gave him space.

"I'm so tired, Liv," he muttered. "And I don't think I'm gonna be able to sleep."

"You should take one of your pills," she offered.

But she felt him look down at her instead. And she looked up at him. She allowed a little nod and his mouth found hers. They both easily let it grow deeper that time.

****** M BEGINS******

And it wasn't long before his one hand slipped into the waist of the sweats and traced up and down her thighs in similar long strokes to the way his fingers had been playing along her arm. Only this time they eventually found her sex and caressed lightly at her labia before dancing a steady and practiced movement against her sensitive nub.

She let him for a while – enjoyed it for a while – but then execrated a bit more control. Her hand found him through his briefs and she cupped him there until he began to involuntarily, steadily press into her palm. Olivia moved her hand again and pulled the front of his briefs down. Brian again let her – his mouth staying close to hers and really only moving to suck and kiss and lick at her neck and ears and collar bone. He better not give her a hickey that night – since their kids now knew what they were and were acutely away for them enough that they were likely to notice and point it out for all of the world to see.

Her hand gripped at the length of him. He still didn't protest – and didn't move her hand. So she gave him a few small tugs and light strokes. His mouth returning to hers as they shared their increasingly aroused breathing – and the catches in it as they handled each other.

Olivia separated from him a bit and pressed him back into the mattress. He again let her – watching her as he settled. And she moved again to lean over him and began kissing down his chest and stomach. She took her time – still keeping her hand in his briefs. Brian keeping his hand on her back and drawing some circles there. She could feel his breathing and his heart rate. She could feel his heart rate in his chest – and she could feel it throbbing in her palm too.

She reached and went to tug the briefs off him. He helped – raising his hips as she removed them. And she again kept a grip on him – keeping control and keeping him from being directly in her face – as she leaned further down him to trace her lips along his inner thighs. He squirmed a bit and squirmed more as she rubbed her thumb against his sensitive head – spreading the drops of pre-cum that had emerged there.

As she again adjusted, she striped off the longue pants and straddled him. She sat just back of him first, finding his eyes.

"OK?" she asked.

"Mmm …," he barely nodded. But it was enough and she moved forward and brought him to her – taking him inside of her all at once. And the 'mmm' turned a bit more into a groan as his head pressed back more into the pillow and he stared above him for a long beat. But then he looked at her and reached for the hem of her tank. "Can we take this off?"

She let him push it up and then reached to pull the rest of it off for him. His hands found her breasts and weighed and caressed at them while she moved over him – rode him slowly. She dipped and stooped and found his mouth – locking with his as she rocked and grinded against him. His hands first held at her hips as she did and then one hand moved to press a thumb against her clit as she moved.

Olivia let her own hum escape her at the added stimulation and stared at nothing while she focused on the sensations radiating from where they were joined. She could always feel so much of him in this position – in the way it let her angle them. She gripped at him a bit – tightening to feel more of the length of him and pulsing a bit at the sensation. Brian groaned quietly. And her eyes found his. They watched each other for several strokes. And she could feel him becoming restless. His hand returned to her waist.

"Switch," he told her. It wasn't a question.

And she steadied herself while he flipped them. And she let her legs widen and pull up to cradle him as he settled on top of her. A small sound escaped her too. The angle of the flip and the way they'd settled had applied a firm stroke to her G-Spot. The intensity of the beautifully agonizing pressure had taken her a little off-guard. But Brian noticed.

"You OK?" he asked.

"Yea," she whispered, reaching to stroke at his cheek a bit.

He gave her a weak smile – that was almost apologetic. "It OK if I fuck you?"

"If that's what you need," she allowed.

"Yea …," he said with some more apology to it.

"It's OK," she assured him. Because she'd seen from when he walked in the bedroom door that that was where they were headed. She would've stopped it earlier if she had a problem with it that night.

She could see him weighing that and he adjusted himself some more. Finding her mouth and kissing her deeply. And she let herself just enjoy the stillness of it while he pressed gently – but firmly and urgently in steady motions – for those long moments.

"I love you," he assured her – nearly panted at her – as their mounts hung just barely touching each other.

"I know," Olivia allowed. "I love you too."

"You're ready?"

"I am," she said.

And she received another kiss – open-mouthed that hung there – as he adjusted himself and found her thigh. And she let herself open more to him as Brian started with three, firm, deep strokes – pressing all the way into her while he gazed at her measuring her reaction and watching for any discomfort … mentally, emotionally, or physically.

But there wasn't. She was OK. She could see the need in him. And she was willing – able – that night to help. She knew how this would go. She knew the routine – his routine –when this is what he wanted or what he needed. If he was able to stay in the moment – to be in the right frame of find – it wouldn't be long. His movements would be hard – bordering on rough. But he wouldn't hurt her. There'd be an urgency in him. But Brian wasn't chasing the orgasm.

He was chasing what the orgasm provided – a few moments escape from his own head. But it'd be short lived. He'd collapse next to her – exhausted from his efforts and the release when he was already operating against exhaustion. And he'd want – need – touch and comfort as he came down. He'd hold her and stroke at her hair and try to control the return to normalcy – that wasn't possible. So instead he'd have to settle for just his heart rate and breathing to calm. And that maybe he'd let himself calm – that she could help him calm – enough that he'd be able to drift into a spent sleep for a short time. To escape. To pretend they were OK – or normal. That they could exist outside their own heads – and their own bodies.

So Olivia braced herself as those initial strokes became harder and firmer and faster and urgent. She listened to their bodies – coming together. His against hers. She listened to his breathing. And she let herself feel the slap of it. To see and smell the glean of sweat forming on both their skins – on his chest and forehead. To hear their catching breathing and aroused sounds escaping them with the effort.

And mostly she just wrapped her legs up and around him – open wide and tightly, cradling him – and she held on. Because so much of their family life – this relationship – was just hanging on anymore and trusting that the other person was going to be there with them at the end.


	22. Not Alright

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

Cassidy was staring at those two stuffed animals on the shelf. The floppy eared dog. A golden lab puppy. A big red bow. And the chocolate horse. Likely a baby horse. A colt.

It was weird they were sitting there. And he'd become transfixed on them. Like he was in some sort of parallel universe.

Ben and Em had those toys. Relics from their past lives. Maybe an indication of the reality he knew. That a lot of social workers – even some family courts, or at least the judges who were trying to some how make some aspect of all of it a bit easier for the kids going through so much shit – handed out donated stuffed toys. Like that made everything better.

Maybe that's where Big Man's 'Doug' the Dog (which had a whole lot more with his pronunciation of a whole lot of shit wrong as a little guy than any sort of name-picking going on) and Ducky's Thunder Crest (which he didn't even question where she got that from – leave it to Ducky …) had come from. Made sense. Social workers. Court rooms. Shrink's offices. ACS person – or cop – who'd pulled them out of whatever situation on whatever given night if they had a bit of a heart a some cash in their pocket. Liv's bullpen had a whole room of toys. A whole bin of new ones for the real heartbreaker cases. All of them bought on the cops' there dime – not the city's. Not One PP.

But he'd never really thought much about it before. Where those toys had come from. Just that they'd come with the kids. It was some kind of hold over of what they'd come from. A piece of the past that hadn't been discarded yet. Though, both the kids had pretty much set the animals aside. Matted and dirty – despite going through the wash and living in better, cleaner circumstances. Instead they were just kind of memories – antiques – that maybe none of them wanted to really think about. At least not where they came from or why they were really there. Because maybe they didn't really mark the kids coming home. Maybe they really did mark what they came from. What they came with – battered and dirty baggage.

Cassidy wasn't sure he really wanted to think about it. Not today. Not right then. Was already thinking about way too much.

But he also really didn't know what he wanted. Didn't know what he was doing right now. What he expected to get out of it. Just had known that he'd walked out of the office that evening and had known he couldn't just go home. Not after all that. That fucking day. But he also couldn't go and get shit-faced.

He could. But it'd disappoint Liv. And he'd get that … look. That tone. That whole body language. Especially if he had to call her to pick him up. Or someone called her to get him cut-off and out of the bar. Rip away his masculinity some in the process. Take care of him of cared for? It'd be one of those moments that would cause all kinds of tension for them for days or weeks to come and they already had enough shit on their plate. He knew he didn't want to go there.

But he also wanted to forget. So bad. Wanted everyone else to too. Collectively.

So here he was. Sitting and staring at stuffed animals on the shelf in Lindstrom's office. Why? He didn't know. Or he did. Because he didn't know where else he was supposed to go.

"Brian …," he heard the guy say. He said it like he'd said it before and was putting more emphasis on it this time to get his attention.

And maybe he had said it before. Cassidy had been off in some other dimension. The one where those toys were on his kids' shelves in their bedroom. And way more battered and broken than the ones staring across the room at him right now.

But Cassidy made himself pull his eyes away from their beady, bead eyes and instead look at Lindstrom. It wasn't too much of an improvement. This guy was kind of creepy looking too. Like some kind of skeletal wax figure. Should've volunteered as some kind of scare creature in one of the neighborhood haunted houses a couple weeks ago. First look he didn't know what Liv saw in this guy.

But truth was – he knew – didn't matter what shrink she was going to – he wouldn't much care for them. Didn't like the idea she was hanging their dirty laundry out there for all to see. Didn't like her thinking he should be doing that himself. He didn't even fucking know how to do it to begin with. To bear his soul in that way to some fucking wax man that looked like he hadn't seen the outdoors in at least a couple decades. Like he was gonna melt if he went outside. Like he was way more comfortable sitting in rooms like this full of other people's darkness.

So all he managed to say to the guy – even though Cassidy also knew it definitely didn't have anything to do with whatever the guy had said to him or asked him that he'd missed – was: "You counsel kids too?"

Lindstrom was sitting forward in his chair – elbows on his knees like he was expecting Cassidy to say something real interesting (or devastating). "I do."

Cassidy nodded a bit at that and looked around the room a bit more. It was a different room than he'd been in last time. When he'd picked up that paperwork shit. Though, he purposely hadn't gone into the room then. Just stood in the private waiting room just outside one of the doors that came off it. Doubt that this room was the room he had for the grown ups. Wasn't a couch in it. Toys. Books. Art. Big round table. A desk. These chairs that felt way too Swedish in their design and had them sitting way too close to the ground to feel all that comfortable or natural for this kind of environment.

"And do art therapy?" Cassidy muttered and gestured at some of the many child's paintings tacked to the walls. There was a whole collection on almost every flat surface. Might as well have been wallpaper back in behind the desk.

But Lindstrom looked momentarily confused at that. He followed Cassidy's sightline, though, and then turned back to him and offered a small smile.

"My grandchildren's," he offered. "This is my office. With fitting you in, I have another patient scheduled to be arriving shortly. I thought if we met in here, we could limit the potential of you crossing paths on their way into my counselling room. Endeavor to maintain privacy."

"Right," Brian allowed. Made sense. Supposed he was grateful for that. Didn't really need anyone to know about this. Not that he thought this guy had a lot of cops coming into his office. Though, plausible they might have crossover in the clients – victims and perps, lawyers – they dealt with.

"Is art therapy something you're interested in?" Lindstrom asked.

Cassidy made a real amused, dismissive noise at that. But he shook his head and looked down a bit – sorta ashamed in a way. Because he knew the value of art therapy. He'd seen it. In his boy.

"Ah, no," Cassidy muttered and looked back at the guy. "I was just thinking that maybe Liv had had Ben in to see you if you do kids and art therapy. You know …"

Lindstrom allowed a thin smile. "Benjamin isn't one of my patients – nor has he ever been."

Cassidy nodded a bit and stared at the art again. None of it was particularly good. Colorful. He'd give it that. Could tell what most of it was. None of it overtly screamed trauma either. But why would you want something that did that up on your walls? Wondered how old these grandkid painters were. He was starting to kinda always work at gauging where Ben was in his skill level and his talent compared to kids around him. To keep it real.

"Yea …," Brian muttered some more. "Ben's real good at the art stuff. I don't know if Liv's mentioned."

Lindstrom allowed this real small shrug. "It has been mentioned."

Brian nodded a bit more. "Yea …," he said again. "She's got the two of them enrolled in this kind of support group, art therapy thing at the kid's hospital. But it's only once a month. He likes it, though. Seems to get a real charge out of it. You know?"

"You don't go?" Lindstrom put to him.

"Ahh …," Cassidy stared at him, measuring that question carefully. Like he was about to get framed as the shitty spouse or father. "Art classes aren't really my thing. All thumbs …," he said with a wag of the one he was missing and still regularly missed but then he self-consciously twisted at the stub. "But they did … I think they're called intention bracelets at the last one. It's like metal stamping. Hardware, knot-tying stuff. That would've been more my speed."

It got another thin smile out of the guy. "What word did he pick?"

Cassidy made a slightly amused sound at that and examined the floor again for a moment. "Me and Liv – we're always telling the kids: 'You've got this'. So: 'Persist'."

Lindstrom smiled a bit more at that. It felt a little less waxy. "Well, from what I know of your family – I'd say that's an appropriate mantra."

"Yea …," Cassidy muttered again. Kind of a sad but true reality there.

"And I sense you're needing some kind of affirmation of that mantra tonight?" Lindstrom put to him.

Cassidy made another sort of amused noise. Wasn't sure that's really what it was or how he'd put it.

"Brian, as I explained to you, I'm happy to have you in tonight to get a better understanding of what kind of therapy or therapist you might be best suited for, and to revisit the referrals I provided you. But, if you are looking for more than that, I will need to include Olivia in the conversation, as it might affect my ability to continue to see her as a patient."

Cassidy shook his head. "I'm not looking to do that. She's comfortable seeing you. Feels it works for her. I just … didn't know where to go tonight. Just couldn't go home right now. Like this."

He watched Lindstrom scan him. Take him in real careful. "Like what, Brian?"

Cassidy exhaled and first leaned his elbows forward on his knees – hunched all forward. But that didn't feel right and he tried to sit back in these low, weirdly sloping seats.

"I don't know," he muttered. "All fucked up."

Lindstrom eyed him again. "What is making you feel fucked up in this moment, Brian?"

He made a little noise and pressed out a forced exhale. "I don't know what Liv's been saying about any of this shit. My stuff."

Lindstrom gave him that real thin-lipped look again. Kind of like a shrunken head. "For confidentiality purposes, let's—"

"Yea, got it …," Cassidy mumbled. And he did. But fuck.

He stared at the floor. And then he went back to staring at those stuffed animals. That dog.

"I don't know if she talks about all the shit she went through in adopting Ben. At this point," Cassidy muttered but then looked at the guy. "I know. You aren't gonna tell me. That's fine. But let's just say it's right around the time of year when we had to go upstate to deal with some of the legal bullshit in getting everything cleared away with the boys. I don't know. I usually don't think about it that much. I mean, it's like … six years ago. But this year it's like, I don't know, all this shit keeps rearing its head that has got it on like repeat through my brain."

"What parts of that trip are you remembering?" Lindstrom asked.

Cassidy sat forward a bit again – and scrubbed at his face. He starred at his feet a bit before staring at Lindstrom.

"The smell," he said flatly. "I know Liv – there's these specific things, images – that she starts skipping on. But it's the smell. When I think about that day – it's the smell. And – the hospital … with Ben … sometimes you get hits of it again. You know the spoiled linens, bedpans. Decay. Human fucking decay. And, I get it on scenes a lot. I think more regularly than Liv. Human trafficking, sex trafficking … slavery. We get sent out to these fucking holes. Cages. Dungeons. Warehouses. It's just in the air. Doesn't matter how long has passed since these places got shut down. It just festers there. And sometimes you have these vics in the room – doing the re-interview, the investigation – and months, years later sometimes you can still smell it on them. What was done to them. How they were made to live. What their body had to go through – is still fucking going through – to keep them breathing."

"Is that what happened today? You had to be on a scene? Or conduct a victim interview?"

Cassidy nodded but he was again fixated on the stuffed dog. He reached for it and brought it to his nose. He whiffed it. It smelled new. It likely smelt like some factory in Cambodia. He wondered what Ben's smelled like. It'd been through the wash so many times – he wanted to say it only smelt like fabric softener. But the thought that it might carry the faintest scent of Horseheads made him want to toss the ragged toy in the incinerator.

"Ben has a dog like this," Cassidy muttered and set the toy back on the shelf next to the horse that reminded him so much of Em's. "From before. From that house."

"Dogs are popular stuffed animals," Lindstrom said.

"Yea. I know," he muttered. "It's just … Em has the horse. From before too."

Lindstrom gave him another thin smile. It was probably his version of a frown.

"I think what I'm hearing is that you are having difficulty sorting out your emotions right now and separating and compartmentalizing experiences from different facets of your life."

Cassidy let out another amused … annoyed … disgusted … sound. He didn't really know. But he sat back and looked at the guy.

"A guy on my team killed himself. Ate his gun," he said flatly. "A couple weeks ago."

"I'm sure that's had a huge impact on you and your staff," Lindstrom said.

Cassidy kept eyes with him. He didn't want to get into that part of it. "It's left us short staffed. We're two down right now. Can't seem to beg, order or bribe anyone into the chairs in my task group. So I've been trying to catch some of the overflow. Has meant getting into the box more rather than just being a lookieloo. Two today."

"And how'd that go?" Lindstrom said.

Cassidy scrubbed at his face again and stared at him. "This one kid. This whole investigation I'm constantly having to check myself. Tell myself he's not Big Man. But this kid everything about him – what happened to him – feels like if Jack hadn't gotten him out of there and hadn't brought him to Liv – then … this is what could've happened. This kid could be my kid."

"But Jack did get him out and you and Olivia have adopted him and given him a strong, loving, safe and supportive home," Lindstrom said.

"Yea, I know that. But, you know, I still don't know what Ben really went through. What happened to him."

"Do you have reason to believe that something beyond what you know did happen to him?"

Cassidy sighed hard and scrubbed his hand across his scalp. "I don't know. I just know that Ben's always had trust issues, and abandonment issues. Really specific about any kind of touch from pretty much anyone but Liv. And lately with shit Jack is pulling on us again – and with all the medical stuff – some of that is rearing its head again. Badly. Meltdowns. Hiding in weird spots. Cramped spaces."

"Benji is going through a very stressful and emotional time right now, too, Brian," Lindstrom said. "It will be a grieving process and a learning process for him as well. And children can very much sense when their parents are struggling. They feel their stress too. They often try to protect their parents from it. But they are still learning about their emotions and how to control and manage them. Outbursts and meltdowns are not unexpected. Some might argue they're healthy."

Cassidy just stared at him. He couldn't decide if he'd heard Lindstrom – really heard him – or not.

"First time I met Ben, he was hiding under Liv's desk in the squad. We were in a … communication lull. I didn't know … about him. But I see Ben – and I was sold. However I fucked it up for our relationship before – wasn't goin' do that again. Because that kids' eyes just looking up at me," Cassidy shook his head and looked down. But then he looked at Lindstrom again. "Thing is – now that I know Ben – I know there was some curious in that look he gave me that day. But there was a whole lot of scared. And today when I went into the room to talk to this kid – he looks up at me and it was the same. Just a whole lot of scared."

"Brian, almost any child I can think of, who is called into an Investigator's Office to be re-interviewed ahead of a trial about the trauma they've gone through, is going to be nervous and more than likely scared."

Cassidy just sighed. And Lindstrom shook his head at him.

"Brian, that little boy you had to interview today – neither the fear he showed toward you nor the abuse that was afflicted on him – are reflective of your son or his feelings toward you today."

He exhaled again and scrubbed again – hard – at the short hair on the side of his head.

"I finished up with that kid. And then I've got another boy coming in. Bit older than Benj. Not much. And this case – if we keep this kid alive until we get to trial – then if the DA's office can't just net this …" he shook his head. "But the kid's teetering and the guy's got a good lawyer. So it's a whole lot of check, check, double-check everything, Just everything. Every little fucking details we're having to go over with this kid. All these other teen-aged boys – college boys, grown man – that we're nearly fucking begging to come forward. And no one wants to. It's all on this kid. And it shouldn't be. He's a fucking little boy. So I sit with him. He doesn't want his mom in the room. But we've got her outside – other side of the mirror listening. Sure he knows that. Smart enough. And we talk. I try shooting the shit with him. Try to connect, relate. It goes OK. I mean – I know Wolverine. Death metal – fine. I can talk out of my ass about whatever game they want. Fortnite. Battle Royale. He wants to talk basketball. I'm good with that. Wants to talk 2K20. Fine. So we're one building our dream teams. Fuck … it is taking restraint to not go out and buy that game so me and Ben can spend a weekend sitting on our asses doing just that."

It earned a small smile from Lindstrom again. "Holding out for Christmas?"

"Hoping Thanksgiving if can get Liv onboard," Cassidy mumbled. "But talking basketball with the kid – you know – it starts to blur a bit. It's where we've sort of diverted Big Man's energy to right now with all his stuff. But it's not where I need to go with this kid. And I'm thinking I need to kick the door open and move things along – and I don't want to be kicking down any doors with this kid. He's this nice, soft spoken kid who've got all kinds of dark around him. Now, his mom says. A loner now. Not before. But he goes and opens the door. Brings up the latest NHL release – comparing the team build features. And you could see on his face he realizes he'd done it and that I've got to go through. Ask him about all the sick, perverted, soul-shattering shit his assistant hockey coach did to him. And I sit there watching another bit and piece of this kid's soul die with each question. Questions this kid is going to get asked over and over again."

Lindstrom looked at him. "Is that how you feel about what happened to you, Brian?"

Cassidy exhaled and sat back into the chair. He stared at him. "Ben loves hockey," was all he said to that. "He misses it. I can tell. This kid too. Basketball – you know. It's not the same as that sport you find. That one you love."

"Do you miss baseball?" Lindstrom asked plainly.

Cassidy let out a snort of real amusement. "So Liv says enough," he said.

Lindstrom just kept looking at him steady.

"Ben called after school," he said. "When I was giving this kid a bit of a break. To be with his mom who he … doesn't know how to be near anymore. Doesn't know how to be near anyone anymore. Not even his own mom. But we've got the kids trained to do that. Or we've got their grandparents trained to do that when they're grabbing them for us. Call. So you'd think it'd be a pick me up."

"And it wasn't," Lindstrom said. It didn't sound like a question that time.

"I mean, I guess Em was. Em always is when she's not driving everyone nuts. She's driving Liv nuts right now. Stubborn Sixes, Liv says. But then Big Man gets on the line. Can tell he's having an off-day. And then he gets all quiet like and asks me what a 'jack-off sundae' is. I've got some ideas but I don't really know and I'm not going to explain it over the phone. I more start asking him if Jack's been at him again about something, getting him worked up. Or if kids at school are bugging him about some shit. I just get 'no, no, no's and he gets all pissy and annoyed with me. I get hung up on. And I don't know. It hurts when he does that even though I know it's an age and stage thing."

"That might go on for several years or more," Lindstrom said.

Cassidy rolled rolled his eyes and gave another exhale. "But I don't know. It bothered me. Like what's spurring that question. After everything we've been through with Ben. Everything he's been through. And I still don't know what brought the question on. Maybe just eleven year old kids talking shit that they think makes them sound like the shit. But I know what an 'jack-off sundae' is now. Looked that up. Not just some random words bunched together by pubescent minds. And … it's disgusting. And I don't know, man. I don't know how to explain any of it. I don't know how I separate all that shit – my shit, work shit, family shit, life shit – and go home. Tonight."

But the thing was – he did. Cassidy couldn't say that Lindstrom told him anything useful. Maybe he did. Maybe the list of referrals with starred off names would look more useful or plausible or like something he could bring himself to tackle in the morning. Or on Monday. Maybe.

But he did go home. Because as fucked as his life and his work and his own shit was – his family wasn't fucked. His family life wasn't fucked.

He got that much out of the session. As much as they were fucked – they weren't.

And he came in the door to the TV going. And he stepped into their living space to his family – all three of them – piled together on the couch. His kids flopped against their mom. Em in a unicorn (or narwhal) horn headband and Ben in one of Cassidy's Knicks hoodies that hung down nearly to his knees. Liv all casual to the point her socked-feet were up on the table.

And she locked eyes with his as he came in and gave him a smile. "Daddy's home," she whispered at the kids. But they were transfixed by the screen.

Cassidy went over and leaned in – capturing the corner of Liv's mouth for a kiss. "Hey, Babe," he mumbled against and then briefly blocked her view as he slouched to either side of her to press a kiss into the kiddos hair and to cup their heads. "What are we watching?" he asked giving the screen a glance while Em hummed annoyance at him and acted like she really had to dodge and strain to see around him.

"Aquaman," Ben muttered at him.

"Aquaman," Cassidy said and stared at the screen for a longer beat. "Without me."

"Mommy said we could watch since you HATE DC," Em added.

"Maybe I meant the District of Columbia," Cassidy said.

"You make no sense," Em pressed and dodged again. "It good and I can't see! Move DADDY!"

Him and Liv shared an eye roll but he settled into the couch next to Ben, who shifted slightly to slouch against him. Apparently the frustrated annoyance from earlier had passed. Liv reached over and found his elbow to give it a little squeeze.

"TGIF," she mouthed at him.

And he allowed a thin smile. "That's for sure …"

"We're not too far in," Liv provided. "We can restart."

"I can watch the start later if it turns out DC isn't poo-poo," he said and stuck his tongue out at Ben. His kid smiled at him and stuck his tongue out too.

"It's no Spiderman."

"Be-cuz he a MER-MAN!" Em huffed and then added firmly, "SHHHH! I CAN'T HEAR!"

He shared another smile with Liv and this time she whispered at him, "There's a plate for you in the fridge. If you're hungry."

"What'd you have?"

"Pha-getti," Ben said purposely goofly. "And mom made GIANT meatballs."

There were so many inappropriate jokes that could be made there. But wouldn't be. Not in front of his kids. Not so some other parent would have to be looking up or thinking about 'jack-off sundaes' on a spectacularly shitty day and trying to figure out if or how you should ever explain that to your child.

"GIGA-NORM-IS," Em agreed. "Only ONE EACH! NOW SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" she spittled on Liv that time she shh'ed so hard. Liv wiped it off the side of her face and gave him a look.

But Cassidy smiled and pressed himself up. He moved over to the fridge and pulled out the plate.

"Looks good, Chef Benson," he called at her.

She gave him a smile across the space. So he just popped it in the microwave and then stood at the counter still looking at his family. Them there together. And he felt his body – his being – draining. And sagging – like he couldn't hold up the weight of it all anymore.

And then just as suddenly Liv was right there with him. Next to him. "Bri, are you OK?"

And he looked at her. And his eyes must've spoke to her enough. Because she took his hand and lead him to the far end of the kitchen – out of the line of sight of their kids – and her arms wrapped around him. And he let her take some of his weight – his burden that night or day or week or month or year. Maybe too much of it. But she held him up. She held onto him. Tightly.

"Hey, it's OK," she said.

"I'm sorry, Liv," he managed.

"It's alright," Liv said. "You're alright."

And maybe he was. With her – he was.

**AUTHOR NOTE: **

**Reviews, comments and feedback appreciated.**

**Exploring multiple ideas of routes to take this and what the next chapters or potential subplots could be, and resolutions of some current plot lines could be.**


	23. Post Zen Workout

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

Olivia felt all that post-exercise zen leaving her body. After weeks of fighting to even fit in getting up from her desk to go to the kitchenette to heat up leftovers – she'd actually managed to leave the office for a work-out. And her body had been elated at that. The release of the endorphins had been a firm reminder about just why she needed to make the time for it in her schedule – above and beyond burning the calories and staying in shape. There was the mental and emotional side of it. But with her workload right now – and the insanity going on at Brian's office keeping him there all hours – had meant she'd been carrying a lot of the water at home right now too. Sneaking in a class or a session with a trainer or even a run or a circuit around some of the machines or the weights in the gym just wasn't happening before or after work. And by the time the kids were down for the night – about the close she got to exercise was MAYBE some mediation, which lately usually was sitting cross-legged on the couch staring at the television with a glass of wine while she had a file from work in her lap.

So she really should've let herself enjoy this rush – that she'd so purposely pressed into her schedule that day. She shouldn't have answered her phone on the walk back to the precinct. She especially shouldn't have answered it when she saw it was Jack. She should've known that whatever it was he had to say it'd just sap that energy right out of her.

It was such a tight rope she was walking with him lately. She was trying so hard to protect herself – and her family. Her children – Benji. And Brian. But she was also trying to be cognizant of the fact that Jack was clearly going through something and was going to need her there in some capacity when he was ready to acknowledge he needed help. Or when whatever tumble it was he was on halted – with some kind of bottoming out – and he was ready to start hauling himself back up to the top. It was going to be a long, laborious rope climb at this point. And she supposed even though she was trying to distance herself – physically and emotionally, to protect herself and the kids – she also was trying to be available enough that Jack still had a safety net so that when that bottom-out did finally happen, hopefully it wouldn't be him hitting absolute rock-bottom. Olivia wasn't sure she wanted to think too much about what Jack's rock-bottom might look like. But he definitely kept playing this little game of one step forward and two steps back. The emotional hostage was how Brian framed it, and he wasn't wrong.

Olivia had to keep on telling herself that Jack was an adult. He wasn't just an adult – he was a 25-year-old man. Despite any trauma he'd been through. Despite the fact she'd served as his guardian. Despite the fact she'd been adopted him as her son. But she had adopted him into their family as an adult. The operative word there was 'adult'. And there were very few people – almost no adults – she'd imagine tolerating the kind of behavior he was bringing into their family. The kind of emotional hostage taking and confusion and hurt he was bring to her young children. So she was keep the line draw, the rules and guidelines in place, and her arm out protectively despite keeping the communications lines open. Despite her hope that he'd grow-up and work at resolving this – like a grown up.

"Well, it certainly wasn't meant as a slight," she muttered into the phone to him. She really wanted to wrap this conversation before she did get back to the office. But it had been dragging on for blocks.

She sighed internally as Jack continued his rather extended rant about her and Brian turning down the invitation to Elaine's son's farm for Thanksgiving. She gazed upward into the heavens. If she was one to pray – she'd be asking God to give her strength. But she hadn't prayed through Lewis. She hadn't begged. She wasn't about to start now – with Jack.

"Well, Jack, Don certainly didn't give me the impression than he felt us turning down the invitation was rude in any way," she said. And on he went again. "We just felt with Benji's dietary restrictions right now, it'd be easier to keep the meal at home." And, of course that wasn't the right answer. "Yes, I do realize we could just go out for the day. And, Jack, I'm sure you're still welcome to just go out for the day and even stay for dinner if you want to." And the stupidest question of all: How? "Rent a car, Jack. Take an Uber. Look into the train and bus schedules. Ask Don and Elaine if they can pick you up." And that still wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"Because we don't want to go out for the day, Jack," she pressed at him. Why? "Lots of reasons." Why? "Because it's Brian and I's day off too and we've been running around in circles at work. Because Benji kind of triggered the last time we were at Mike's farm." And he countered that. "OK. Fine, Jack. Call it what you want. But we were the ones dealing with it, and Benji's tired and emotional enough lately we don't want whatever it was happening again and throwing off our whole long weekend. Besides he might need a lumbar puncture next—" Apparently she hadn't told him that. "I did tell you that." No, she didn't, he insisted. "Yes, Jack. I did." Well, what is it even? Because he listened to her so well anymore. "They want to take some of the cerebral spinal fluid out to examine for traces of inflammation and infection." WHY? "Because of some of the lab results they're getting with his blood. Because of the way his lungs look on xrays. Because of his headaches and the way his one eye is sitting, twitching."

WHAT?

"Jack," she sighed at him. "I can't do this right now. I'm almost back to my office. We'll have to talk tonight if you want me to go over this again with you." Again, he insisted she hadn't mentioned any of it before. She had. And he'd know – he'd see – if he showed up! So she wasn't going to argue about it. "I'm not getting into it right now."

Instead he asked in a lumbar puncture was invasive and was going to 'ruin' Thanksgiving. But she really doubted that the potential of the spinal tap happening next week was what would potentially ruin their holiday.

"It's not supposed to be that day," she allowed. "But we're supposed to limit his activity for about five days after it. No running around. The kids like to play if we're out on the farm."

Jack countered that with that they could just come for dinner.

Olivia exhaled again and rubbed at her eyebrow and then reached to pull open the door to the district. She flashed her badge at the desk sergeant and then moved toward the security check to get buzzed through.

"We're actually having a late night the night before," she said and then muttered, "You're going through the scanner. Just a second."

She nearly tossed her phone into the bin while she stepped through the metal detector and then buzzed in. The officer on the other side who'd watched her body language held the cup with the phone and her keys out to her with an amused smile.

"Kids …," the officer said.

Olivia just gave an exasperated little sigh and eye roll and took back her belongings.

"I'm back," she provided and was greeted with a demand wanting to know what they were doing the night before. "It's the Nets' Police Beneficiary night."

"And you didn't invite me," got put to her with completely accusation.

"Jack, don't do this to me," she pressed at him. "Not once in seven years have you wanted to attend any basketball game with us."

It got a 'you usually at least ask'. Which maybe was true.

"Well, Jack, you haven't been taking us up on many invitations lately," she said and jammed her thumb into the elevator button. "I'm just about to get on the elevator if I cut out."

She almost hoped she did. That'd be a way to end the conversation. And an easy way to not call back – caught up in work. It'd be the excuse she'd be pulling momentarily anyway. Especially when the next comment she got was 'What? Does that mean I'm not invited to Thanksgiving?'

And she exhaled hard again as the elevator doors did ding open. And she again almost hoped that as the doors closed and she went up the shaft the signal would get weak enough that their line would drop.

"Of course, you are invited to Thanksgiving, Jack," she put flatly. "I just wish you would've put a whole lot more effort into smoothing things out with at least Benji before next week."

'And I wish you'd make Thanksgiving a whole lot easier by agreeing to meet on neutral ground – at Mike's,' Jack pressed hard into her ear. 'You know I've got issues with Thanksgiving.'

"And there we are, Jack," Olivia said. "You know who else has issues around Thanksgiving? I do. And Benji does too. Because of you. And because of you – and your actions as of late – a lot of those issues are bubbling up again. But me – I'd prefer to focus on things I'm thankful for at Thanksgiving. Like the little boy – and the family – I got out of someone's previous epic Thanksgiving screw up. And I'd be very thankful if that someone wasn't self enough to make a very similar screw up a second time."

And it hung there so long that Olivia thought maybe the call had dropped. The doors dinged open and she was about to pull the phone away from her ear when he finally spoke.

'See. That had tone,' he said into her ear.

"It did," she agreed – and started on a beeline toward her office.

"Lieu," Carisi had spotted her and was up and on his feet and nearly at her.

He'd been at her while she was out too. Those had been messages on her phone she'd been trying to ignore for the ninety minutes she'd been out of the office. Though, that hadn't stopped him from leaving a sting of texts on her lock screen and accompanying emails in her inbox. She'd seen a voice message too. She knew what it was about. And it could wait. She was hoping it could wait until at least she put her gym bag down and took off her coat. And managed a few deep breaths after her phone call with Jack. Carisis should give her that – or else she might bite off his head. So she held up her hand at him in a firm stop and wait. He stared at her in his own exasperation, hands on his hips. He'd been alone in the bullpen. That was asking for him to find all kinds of extra work to keep all of them extra busy.

'So I don't think neutral ground is a bad idea,' Jack continued on in Olivia's ear as she nearly tossed her bag into the corner and pressed her palm into her forehead as he continued. 'I think what you said and way you said it is basically exactly why it's a good idea. You know it's hard for me to come home that day."

Olivia sighed hard. He was giving her a headache. If this was how Benji's headaches felt – she ached for him. But she just pinched the voice piece and tilted back out the door to Carisi, who was still looking a little brushed off and frazzled in his make-busy ninety minutes of folding down the fort during lunch-time hours.

"I need you to pull the Flores and Nelson files from last year. Bring them with you when you come in," she called at him. "Do you know the ones I mean?"

"Yea, I think so, Lieu," he perked up – happy to be given a task. "I'll get on that."

But apparently her non-response to Jack's ongoing combative rambling had indicated to him he should continue and his version of an explanation and argument of positioning. So what she got in her ear was: 'It's hard enough to just show up in the first place.'

And Olivia stood there. She forced herself to take a breath. And let herself press the door shut. And then she turned with her back to it. She turned toward her desk and her book shelves. And her framed photos of her family and children and their artwork. And she just stared at them. She stared straight ahead.

"Well, Jack, how far back are we going to take this? Easter morning? Mother's Day? Father's Day? July Fourth? OK. I know. That's all pretty boring with us. Maybe you don't feel they're important days to have family time. Fine. So let's start with August. Not finding a way to participate in any part of the family vacation and missing out on Brian's birthday was one thing. Barely being present for Benji's birthday was another. Completely not showing up for mine – hurtful, but I'm a grown-up. And then not coming out to any of the lead up to Halloween for the kids sent up the smoke signal. But, Jack – this year – not showing up for Thanksgiving is a completely different thing. It will be a clear message. So you better think very, very carefully about what you want that message to be."

And it hung there. It hung there so long that she took another breath and manuevered to hang up her coat.

"Is Renee invited?" he finally asked.

Olivia let out a slow exhale and went and sat behind her desk. "Jack, I am not going to say Renee is not invited. I am going to say that when you have female company with you – you need to read the room carefully, especially when it comes to Benji. And I'm much more concerned about your ability to do that and manage the room, than I am Renee's."

"What does that even mean?" he demanded.

Olivia shook her head and let out a firmer exhale in exasperation. "It means, Jack, that I really wish that this spring and summer you'd been more straight-forward about the status of your relationship and that this fall you'd been working on improving your relationship with the kids and introducing Renee into their lives. You can't just show up at the holidays and expect Benji and Emmy – who they are, how they are – to be OK with that. Not you or her."

"So, fine, I'll hang out with them some this weekend."

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow. "One weekend the week before Thanksgiving isn't going to fix this, Jack. And, we've got a pretty busy weekend planned."

"See. You've always got excuses whenever I try to see them," he pressed at her.

"Yes, Jack," she put back to him. "Lately, I do. Because I really don't have the time or energy to be wading through the emotional minefield that's left in the wake of every one of your interactions with Benji anymore."

"Because he's always acting so fucking weird with me anymore," Jack spat.

"Well, you're acting pretty fucking weird with us anymore, Jack," she put right back at him.

And it hung there again. And Olivia just stared at the paperwork on her desk.

"He's not a little boy anymore, Jack," she sighed. "He's seeing and hearing and remembering and feeling all of this. He remembers more from when he was three and four than you want to think too. He is measuring you and judging you. And it is going to need to be him who forgives you. It's not just about me or Brian giving you a pass and getting over it."

And it was quiet again. She inhaled and exhaled. And waited.

"Don's got them Thursday and Friday?"

Olivia rubbed her thumb across her forehead and stared down at the paperwork. "He does. It's parent-teacher conferences. And we scheduled a meeting with Benji's principal too."

"Bullying again?" Jack asked.

"No," Olivia said. It was some sexual slang that Benji had come home with wanting clarification on that her and Brian were both uncomfortable with. If it was more than kids having potty-mouths at that age – it wasn't something they wanted to potentially be their child's early introduction to sexuality and early sexual experiences. Nor did they think it should be among any middle schoolers early sexual experiences. So they were just checking in. They were probably just being older parents, scarred by their own experiences and jaded by what they'd seen by their jobs that had caused them to become a little over-protective. But they'd decided they'd rather be those parents than the ones who actually had an 11, 12 or 13 year old kid who'd participated in a 'jack-off sundae'. But Jack didn't need to know any of that. "We're just following up on something to do with the school."

It sat there. "Maybe I could just go hang out at Don and Elaine's while they had them then. Take them to the park or a movie or just get pizza for everyone or something. Neutral ground …"

Olivia gave a slow exhale. "Let me think about it."

"You mean talk to Brian about it," Jack muttered.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. And didn't answer.

"So the Captain and Elaine aren't coming to Thanksgiving then," Jack said flatly.

Olivia shrugged. "You'd have to ask them. Last I heard they were still working out their schedules."

"So who are you having over?"

"Janet and John," she provided.

"Not Alex and Trevor?"

"They're in Connecticuit this year," she said. "But I'm sure you knew that."

It also hung there.

"No one else?" he asked finally.

She shrugged. "We're exhausted, Jack. We want a quiet weekend." She rubbed at her eyebrow. "Brian might have to be out of town for a couple days next week before the holiday."

"Where?"

She exhaled. "It's going to depend. Likely D.C."

"You said Jamin's spine thing is next week?"

"It might be."

"So Brian won't be there? Nice," he said with tone.

"We'll work it out."

"And so you aren't doing your Santa Macy's or Firefighter Rescue thing and museum thing if you're having this quiet weekend." It was a statement.

"I really don't know what we're doing," she said. It was truth – fact – and just their realty anymore. "Jack, I'm back in the office. I need to get back to work. You can call tonight if we need to talk more."

And she didn't wait for him to agree – or disagree – she just hung up. And hauled herself from her desk and opened the door, gesturing at Carisi who was waiting for her like a puppy. He strode in with the files and held them out at her while she got seated back behind her desk. But Olivia gestured for him to keep them and to take a seat.

"Looks like that work-out left you winded there, Lieu," he said to her.

She allowed him a small smile at that and flipped shut the file she had on her desk, setting it over on the opposite side closer to Carisi. He was going to need it to.

"What were you doing at twenty-five, Carisi?" she put to him.

"Ah," he shrugged. "Walking the beat."

"Mmm," she agreed. "When did you decide on Law School?"

"Ah," he smiled a bit at that. "Likely while I was walking the beat and not, you know, climbing the ladder quite as lickity-split as I'd like."

"So volunteer for SVU – the elite unit that no qualified one wants to be in," Olivia said.

"Well, you know, I like to think I'm pretty qualified now," Carisi said.

"Maybe over-qualified," she put back to him.

"Ah, well, you know, we've all got room for improvement," he said.

She allowed a quiet sound of amusement. Carisi and modesty didn't go hand-in-hand. Though, he had had more than his share of opportunity to have to eat some humble pie over the years.

So she folded her hands on her desk and watched him. He adjusted that thin tie of his a bit. He dressed the part well. Slick Staten Island Italian. Maybe still trying a little too hard. But maybe she could've said about the same thing for Barba with a few placeholders changed.

"I know you've been approached by the District Attorney's Office, Carisi," she said.

He stared at her for a long beat. And then gave a small glance over his shoulder like he was checking to see if the bullpen was still empty – at least of Rollins and Fin. Or maybe wondering if it had been Rollins who'd spilled the beans. But Olivia shook her head at that.

"Ah …," he sputtered a bit. At a loss for words – a rarity for Carisi. His legs uncrossed, uncomfortably.

"It's OK," Olivia held up her hand to stop him. "They'd be lucky to have you. And we'd be lucky to have you as our ADA assigned to SVU. To continue to work with you. If that's what you want."

"Yeah, well, that's kinda the thing," Carisi said. "I don't know it's what I want." He gave a shrug. "You know, things are just kinda complicated right now."

Olivia cocked her head at him a bit – reading that. "Maybe the change would help make things a little less complicated," she suggested.

Carisi made a quiet amused sound and looked down at the floor for a long beat. "Yeah, well," he finally said and looked up at her. "It's not just … all that. It's that I think I'd kinda miss being a cop a lot, you know."

She gave him a thin smile and a little nod. "I do know." And she nudged the file she'd put on his side of the desk a bit closer to him. "The DA's Human Trafficking Investigative Team is starting to get around to digging into those three files. They're likely going to need the evidence boxes pulled too."

"Oh, right, sure," he allowed and leaned to grab it. "You want me to get patrol to drive 'em over?"

"Why don't you?" she nodded at him. "Chain of evidence. Maybe give them a bit of a rundown."

He gave her a bit of a look – the one that said he was unimpressed he was still getting treated like the new guy when he was fielding offers from the District Attorney's office for a job at the bar. So Olivia leaned forward on her desk a bit.

"Brian's under-staffed right now, Carisi," she said pointedly. "He has two spots on his team right now." And she pointed at the files again. "And that is a case they are about to start working on."

Carisi gave the files a glance and then her. Sometimes for a guy that was pretty bright – in other ways, he was pretty dumb. Not unlike some other men she knew.

She sat back in her chair and ran her hand through her hair. "Know who are still cops but get to wade a whole lot more into the legal world on a daily basis than we do, Carisi?"

It clicked. His face said it. "But, yeah, well, no offensive or anything to Cassidy, but most guys who end up in the Investigator's Office are usually kinda there for a reason."

Olivia shrugged. "Maybe that was true in the past. Maybe it's still true of some units. I don't think you'll find it true of Brian's team. Take the files and boxes over, Carisi. Be a detective. Use your lawyer's gift of jab. See what you think."

"I mean, I'll run the errand for ya, Lieu, but it's not really my thing," he said and shifted in his chair like he was going to get up – slapping the files a bit on his knees.

"Carisi," she stressed at him again. "Brian operates in a different way than me. He's a different kind of cop than me. 'Recreate how a crime occurred if a crime occurred'. He drives me a little crazy."

"I mean, obviously, you married the guy," Carisi deadpanned.

It got a smile out of Olivia. "Talk to him. OK? Maybe it is the kind of change you want or need right now."

"Yea, I don't know," Carisi said, as he opened the door and looked out it. The bullpen was still empty. "Sorta looks like SVU needs me too. It's like I'm the only one who works around here."

"We'd miss you," Olivia offered gently. "Whatever you decide – but we'd survive without you."

"Yea, right," he said. "So say we all …" he gave her a look. "Battlestar Galatica."

"Ah …," Olivia rolled her eyes a little but then looked at him a bit more firmly. "What did you need me for?"

"Oh, that," he said, giving the bullpen – or more specifically the elevators another glance – and then stepping back into her office an inch. "Ah, it's sorta embarrassing."

"You, Carisi? Embarassed? About anything?"

"Yeah, I know? Shocking, right? But Amanda's, you know, she's kinda looking at some rentals this weekend. In Brooklyn."

"In Brooklyn?" Olivia stressed purposely and made a face – because Rollins had been sure to make lots and lots and lots of comments about their move into Brooklyn.

"Yeah, I know, right?" Carisi muttered. "But, anyway, she sorta asked me to come. But not come – to like wrangle the girls. Because of this whole … Dr. Al … you know, complicated stuff."

"Ah …," Olivia allowed.

"So she doesn't want to have the girls and strollers with her so I have to take the girls somewhere but she doesn't want me to take them to my parents, and you know, Amanda …"

"I know Amanda," Olivia agreed.

"Anyway, long story short," he said. It already wasn't that short. "I'm likely just going to have them in a park or coffee shop or something over I don't even know – 'cuz you know, Brooklyn is so small. But I was just kinda hoping if it's like pissing rain or snowing or you know hits freezing that maybe I could—"

"You're welcome to come by," Olivia said holding up a hand to get this ramble to stop. She'd heard enough rambles that afternoon. "Just maybe make sure Amanda knows that's in the constituency plan."

"Yeah, right, sure," Carisi said with a wave of the files. "Absolutely. And I'll get these right on over downtown. Thanks, Lieu."

He started on his million-miles-an-hour pace. But Olivia just stared after him. "Talk to Brian, Carisi," she called after him. And picked up her phone to send a warning of just who was going to be bringing the files over as she did.


	24. Transformations

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

Cassidy glanced up from jabbing at his phone screen. Having a fucking passive aggressive textual confrontation with Jack that was turning pretty fucking confrontational. Apparently Liv was "putting up road blocks" to him seeing Ben on the weekend. And apparently the explanation that Big Man FINALLY had a birthday party invite to fucking laser tag they wanted him well enough to get to and a end of term homework project due before the Thanksgiving break he needed to get done wasn't enough of a fucking explanation of why they didn't need him showing up and exploding their family dynamic that weekend. They fact they couldn't get this fucking almost twenty-six year old MAN to wrap his head around any of this was beyond pissing him off lately. Honestly – Jack just shouldn't come over for his own fucking self-preservation because Cassidy was about ready to wringe his neck. He didn't know how their family was supposed to fucking fix this at this point.

And he audible groaned a bit when he saw another fucking annoyance that Liv had sent his way at his office door – toting three evidence boxes and a pile of paperwork on top.

"Hey," Carisi said, balancing the boxes on one knee just so he could jab his finger at the Lt. Brian Cassidy name plate outside his door. "When'd that happen?"

Cassidy shrugged. "Month or so ago."

"Yeah?" Carisi wide-eyed him. "The Lieu in the family hadn't mentioned."

And Cassidy just have another shrug. With everything else that had been going on in their family that fall, his promotion had been a blip they'd barely even had a chance to register. Liv hadn't gotten out to him getting his stripes. That was fine. He'd missed her getting her Lieutenant's too. And they were at the point in their lives and careers that promotions almost just seemed inevitable rather than any kind of grand achievement. Especially when it came to anything to do with the DA's Investigator's Office if they were going to be real about it.

Besides word had come down that Liv was in line for a Christmas Bump – meritorious promotion – that year-end and they hadn't even flinched either. She'd be up to Captain in the New Year and they hadn't told anyone yet – or celebrated in anyway. The most they'd done – was the same as they'd done when he'd gotten his promotion – crack the union manuals to see what it did to their salaries, their benefits and their furlough and leave entitlements and they'd weighed how that impacted their decisions and abilities to manage Ben's health care options. Fucking Jack thought reality and adulthood was smacking him in the face now? Just fucking wait until he wasn't the center of his own fucking universe – when he had a spouse and kids and needed to make decisions that were about them. Every fucking day. Not one time leaving some kid on some one's doorstep and telling yourself you did right and that's going to carry you through until the end of time.

"Bigwigs decided detective wasn't a splashy enough title to have heading up the team," he said and then pointed off at a vacant space on the floor. "You can put those there."

"Still, congrats," Carisi said, as he rearranged the boxes. And Cassidy could tell read the spines of some of the binders and files he already had piled on the bookshelf and floor in the immediate area. His office was a fucking diaster lately. He'd be the first to admit with being two men down they were drowning. Between the caseload and having to participate in some of the fucking futile recruitment process he was just inundated in paperwork.

"Least it's some compensation for the administrative bullshit that comes with the job," Cassidy muttered.

"Comes with a nice view too," Carisi commented as he strengthened, taking a gander out the window. "Gotta say it's way nicer, brighter than what the Lieu's got."

"And they compensate for that with the pile of darkness you're standing next to," Cassidy gestured and then tossed his phone down on his desk. Done with Jack for the moment. "That's all some cross-jurisdictional Dark Web cases we're supposed to be picking through. Seeing what evidence we've got so our guys can get charges to stick here."

Carisi just kind of stared at the pile. Hands on his hips. The guy always kind of stood like that. Fucking Italian string bean.

Cassidy exhaled a bit and slumped back down in his chair. He'd been trying to get out of there to go grab a coffee for the last like forty minutes. Clearly wasn't going to happen now. Would've been nice if Liv had told Carisi to bring one. Would've been nicer if Carisi was the kind of brown-noser that Liv said he was and the guy had shown up with a brew or some lunch. But Cassidy already knew that no one showed up begging for this job.

"So I'm a little short staffed," Cassidy put to him anyway.

"Ah, yeah," Carisi acknowledged. "Liv mentioned."

The guy was still staring at the pile of Dark Web shit. Files that Cassidy didn't even want to open – but had. And those files – they were just full of paperwork mostly. The real bad shit – the kind that made people eat their guns – those were off on encrypted hard drives containing images and evidence of things that no human being should ever have to look at. Things that no human being should've ever had done to them.

"There's some neck-breathing going on," Cassidy said. "Could use some legal-eagle eyes and mind-set in making sure we've got our Is and Ts dotted and crossed if you're interested in some OT this weekend, likely a bit of a road trip a couple days next week. Liv said she could spare you."

"Ahhh …," the guy sputtered real long for a moment. Clear, hard-no. But still Carisi sorta rocked and finally turned toward him. Or at least Cassidy's desk. He stopped at stared there too. And he pointed, smiled. "Optimus Prime? Transformers?"

Cassidy's eyes followed his finger and looked at the framed picture on his desk from the summer. It was just tacky and incognitos vacation fodder to most. A little more to him. Wasn't just a photo with his wife and kids. Wasn't just some childhood cartoon come to life. It was the character – the toy – that he'd 'fixed' for Ben that had pretty much transformed his fucking life. Transformed his fucking relationship with Liv. Got him to where he was today. In that office. With a little boy and a little girl and a spouse in his life. Still fucking breathing. Some days – on this job – he needed that reminder. Especially lately.

"Man, I loved that show as a kid," Carisi said and made a transforming sound that was too dead on for Cassidy's liking. He wasn't sure he wanted to like Carisi at all. He didn't dislike the guy. The guy kind of annoyed him. But he didn't at th same time. Maybe because he also felt sort for him. "That's from your trip?"

"Yea," Cassidy allowed flatly.

"The Lieu didn't say too much of anything about the trip. Or pictures or anything. You know, because I think Rollins was being, you know, a little Rollins about it."

"I heard," Cassidy allowed, bouncing a pen against his hand. He wanted to move this along. If Carisi wasn't interested in helping in this one-off and wasn't interested in the job, period, than fine. But they didn't need to chit-chat about the rest of their lives. They weren't buddies.

"Me," Carisi said, "I've always kinda wanted to go, you know. At least as a kid. But, you know, my parents. Staten Island, Italian, working class. We aren't exactly the Florida vacation type."

Cassidy stared at him. He made a sound that acknowledged he could hear him – but also tried to suggest he shut the fuck up.

"Is that thing like a statue or is that like a real Transformer?" Carisi said, getting way too close to Cassidy's desk and stooping in real close for a look.

Cassidy sat forward and moved the photo to the oppose side of his workspace. There wasn't exactly space for it there and he ended up laying it flat.

"It's a guy in costume," he said flatly.

"No kidding," Carisi muttered. "Wow. So it you or the kids that are into Transformers?"

Cassidy looked at him directly. "Carisi, you interested in the OT or not?"

"Ah, yeah, about that," the guy muttered and slouched into a real manspread that must drive Liv fucking nuts into the chair across from his desk.

"No is a good enough answer," Cassidy said. "If it's not my case, I don't need the details."

"It's just I would," Carisi said. "In an OT, one-off situation like this. But I already committed to helping Rollins out on—"

Cassidy held up his hand. "Don't need to hear your relationship problems."

Carisi just looked at him. "It's actually Jesse's birthday on the weekend," he said mutedly with a little shrug and then shook his head at a loss. "But I actually have no clue what's going on with it. Amanda hasn't said anything to me about it and changes subjects when I bring it up. And now has got me babysitting on Saturday while she goes and looks at some rentals somewhere in Brooklyn. But, yea … I mentioned that part to the Lieu already. Maybe she didn't realize you were looking for some to start A-SAP. She said I could stop by if me and the girls needed some place that I don't know, isn't like Ample Hills or the Transit Museum, if this storm front their saying is coming in hits and I can't just have them in the park or … whatever. It'd be easier, you know, if I could just have them over at my place or my parents' place. But …"

Cassidy stared at him and tapped his pen on his desk. "OK. Thanks for that life summary. And apparent snapshot of what I can expect on my Saturday – if I do get to spend any time there."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry 'bout that," Carisi said.

"You can't do the weekend. Liv says I can borrow you next week. Do you want to be borrowed? See what the DAI's about?"

The guy made another kind of sputtered 'ahh' sound and went back to looking at that pile of files.

"Look, Carisi, I know you're being head-hunted. And I don't know what you're thinking career-wise. I know some people in the NYPD have got some preconceived notions about the Investigator's Office. So here's my sell. The pay is shit compared to NYPD salaries – even when you top out. That's why it's a lot of retired guys who are also collecting their pension. But the benefits are good. It's Monday to Friday – most of the time. And it's nine-to-five – most of the time. By the eighteen-month mark – you'll have a take-home vehicle, if not before. Make those hauls over to S.I. a bit easier for you. Lots of opportunity to work interesting cases in lots of different units. You want to keep doing Sex Crimes – we can get you transferred there eventually. You interested in something else – then, yea, you're a smart guy, sure you know the whole list of units we've got over here and in every other DA's office in every other borough. As for here – Human Trafficking – this is going to give you some juice to move on other jurisdictions: task forces, the Feds, whatever you want. And you're going to be working with the DAs and ADAs pretty much daily getting your daily dose of law. And – best part – you'll still be a cop. You'll still have your gun. Still have your badge."

Carisi sat back in his chair a bit and looked at him. And then he looked at his hands. Folding them and looking at his thumbs.

"Before I say anything about any of that – can I just ask you something as a guy you pretty much got involved with a cop?" Carisi asked.

Cassidy stared at him. "You can ask but you might not want to – because I might not be the biggest fan of cop you might be involved with."

Carisi made a quite little amused sound and looked down. "Yeah, I got that. But, you know, I kinda hear that from the other cop in question too. You know, vice versa. With some self-loathing. 'Cuz maybe she sorta feels a side dollop of regret about how all that played out between you two and things that got said. But she's just not so good at figuring out ways to say all that. And, beyond that, like the Lieu has already sorta warned me about the dangers of getting too close to your partner. Albeit indirectly. So, you know, I probably have some inkling of what you'd say if that was what I was gonna ask. But that's not really what I was gonna ask."

Cassidy breathed but then pointed his pen at the door. "Close it," he said.

And Carisi stood and did. And then sat again.

They looked at each other.

"I just …," Carisi said and stopped. "Like how old was Ben when you and the Lieu got involved?"

Cassidy looked at him. "Four," he said flatly. "He'd just turned four. Couple months before." That depended on how you measured it. But it was also the easiest answer.

Carisi nodded a little at that. "Jesse's turning four," he said quietly. About as quietly as Cassidy had ever heard him speak. Quietly enough that he wasn't sure he was really talking to him.

Cassidy drummed his pen on the edge of his desk.

"And that's when you had it locked in?" Carisi asked.

Cassidy made an amused noise and looked at him. "Think an argument could be mounted that I just got it 'locked in' this June, counsellor," he said.

Carisi made a sound of acknowledgement. And stared at his hands again for a brief moment. He tried to mask it with a move to smooth out his tie.

"You and Liv worked SVU together before," he said.

Cassidy shrugged. "Sure. Long-time ago."

"Partnered up?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes but not really. I was mostly paired off with John Munch."

Carisi nodded. "But you left because of the relationship and the job and how all that works?"

Cassidy drummed his pen on the side of the desk again and shook his head. "We'd split before I transferred out. Decision to transfer out had some layers to it."

"Yeah. It's a tough gig," Carisi acknowledged. "I mean, it's a good way to land your detective third grade spot quick. But …"

"Yea, but," Cassidy allowed.

"I know you kinda left the job for a bit," Carisi said. "Before coming here."

Cassidy shrugged. "Changes needed to be made for the well-being of my family. When the dust settled from that – this was the place that made the most sense for me to be. And, yea, we deal with some pretty dark, disgusting shit here, Carisi – but I do my best to make sure that everyone on my team is seeing and taking care of their family."

Carisi nodded. "And, I like hearing that, because, like, the thing is I'm feeling less like I'm making this decision I'm supposed to be making along career lines. It's about like how do I see my life. And, you know, I want kids. And, I mean, I keep hoping that those kids are going to be Jesse and Billie and maybe … you know … another one. But, I don't know. That's not going to happen if I stay in SVU. And whoever those kids are – I just, I mean," and he gestured over at the boxes he'd brought over from across town and the pile of Dark Web files. "I know what's in those boxes. And Special Victims deals with enough kiddie porn cases that I have enough of an inkling of what's in those file folders that I want to vomit. And I just can't imagine leaving SVU and coming over here to work on those kinds of cases and then getting to go home and having the kind of life that I want to have or being the kind of husband or father to be – and giving my family the kind of life that I want them to have. Like that isn't worth keeping my run and badge for. And, you know, my dad he'd likely really bust my chops for investing all that time and money into law school – and getting offered a job as a DA – to turn it down. I mean, what kind of scrawny, Italian, Staten Island kid turns that kind of job down? Really?"


	25. Peanut Butter

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

Jack moved his eyes from staring at the ceiling that was like a foot in front of his face to staring at Renee. Or staring at the top of her head there in the semi-dark. It wasn't that dark. They'd left lights on 'downstairs' and she'd wanted them to leave the little flat camping lamp he had on on his sorta bedside table thing. Really – it was a wooden crate turned upside down. A nightstand wouldn't have fit up there. Having a light there wouldn't either. It would've hit the ceiling he was staring at.

In the light he could see her hair was kind of a mess back there at the crown. Sorta matted and splayed and disorganized. Bed-head. But not bed-head. Bedded head. But that made sense.

Only it didn't. Because he still wasn't entirely sure how they'd gotten there. And he was starting to wonder if she was just as confused about it. Or if she was entirely second-guessing it. Or figuring out how to play it or get out of the whole situation. And that's why she'd just been laying there against him so quiet for like … a while. Long enough that Jack had found himself replaying how they'd gotten there and starting to second-guess the whole situation and wonder if he'd kind of fucked up the whole situation again. Made it more complicated than it should've been. At least more complicated than he needed to be right now.

He sorta knew how they got there.

They'd been at Renee's place. It was supposed to just be the usual in their kind of work and attempt at mending bridges right now. Figuring shit out. Reality was he was spending a lot evenings with her after work. Even if it was just both of them kind of working on their own work shit and more than working on their own shit. Though they were doing some of that too. But it was a slow process. Not because of her. Because of him. Jack knew that. But he just … he didn't have it as figured out as her.

He wasn't as ready as her to work on all kinds of areas that she'd been working on for like the past six years. Stuff from her childhood and upbringing and her parents and mom and what had happened to her. And getting through adolescence and post-secondary and entering adulthood without a real family and kind of having to make one of your own. And figuring all that out. Finding your way. Jack wished he had the kind of grip she had on all that. But he didn't. And some of it, it kind of felt like he never would because he just really didn't think he was ever going to feel like revisiting it and unpacking it the way that it needed to be to heal. He'd tried. He'd done the shrink stuff and the counselling and all that shit. And it hadn't really worked. It mostly just pissed him off that it hadn't worked at this point. Or that like Olivia – and sometimes Renee – toted it as like the piece of the puzzle as solving all this shit in his life. Therapy.

That evening had sucked, though. Tara had some new girlfriend. And apparently things had gotten hot and heavy. And it was getting hot and heavy at Renee and Tara's place. Audibly.

Jack didn't want to know what kind of sex toys or strap on or whatever they were using in there – but between that buzzing and the vocalizations that were going on him and Renee could both hear it over the TV in the living room.

Jack just couldn't do that kind of sex sounds. Couldn't do it if it was porn and couldn't do it if it was people in the next room. It just … triggered him. That's what his shrink would've told him. He'd be back on the farm. It'd be back to that parade of assholes and bullshit and drugs and sex and abuse and harassment that went on on the farm with Izzy and her shit. And with all the in between related and unrelated shit with Uncle Greg.

Renee either must've seen he was getting close to landing into PTSD territory – or she was headed there herself. Because she suggested they leave.

Jack had sort of figured they'd just got grab a bite or something. Maybe go for a walk. Maybe she'd humor him and watch him skate for a bit. She was good about that. She was good about a lot of things. He kinda loved that about her.

But they'd just ended up at his place.

And Renee actually mustn't have been coping with the porno show sounds that had been coming out of Tara's room at full-blast too well either because she'd wanted to do this grounding exercise thing when they got there.

It was a breathing exercise. Jack was familiar with it too. Because – therapy.

Maybe she'd thought he'd been tripping more than he had been at that point. Or maybe she really had been. Or a bit of both. But they both sat there and went through the steps. Separate but together.

Then he'd put a show on the computer for them to watch. Or maybe more to like distract them as they both still both came down and worked at finding their ground.

Renee had eventually found his hand and held onto it real tight. He'd let her.

And she'd slowly moved to sitting closer and closer to him. And he'd let her to that too.

And then she'd asked if they could do the breathing exercise again – but facing, touching.

Jack had looked at her and measured her a bit more. Because he was sort of starting to think maybe he'd been too wrapped up in his own trigger to have been able to process just how much that had been a trigger point for her too. But he'd agreed again. Because the whole sitting, facing, holding hands, breathing thing – they'd sort of done that a lot before. Their before. When they were working through stuff in figuring out how to like … be a couple.

Back then he'd told himself that a lot of that was about like him being patient while Renee like figured out how she wanted their relationship to look or what she wanted the physical aspect of it to be. But Jack was sort of having to acknowledge on some levels that that wasn't entirely true. It wasn't just about her there either. And it wasn't just her who was figuring any of it out.

He knew from before too that it wasn't like a PTSD grounding exercise really. Maybe it kind of was. For rape victims … or survivors. But it was more like an intimacy exercise. And sometimes it could be fucking awkward and really fucking scary. He knew that from before too.

But he'd still agreed. He didn't know why.

Because she asked?

And it had been awkward. And his heart had been pounding so fucking hard for the first while. He knew she could feel it with the way her hands were gripping at his wrists on each other's knees. But he could feel her heart rate was a little elevated too. Though definitely not as like terrified out of control as his.

It'd been hard to sit there and look each other in the eye for the first bit too. He kept shaking his head and having to look away. Smiling out of embarrassment and awkwardness and discomfort. And then finding her eyes again. But she was patient. She was always so fucking patient with him. Even when she wasn't. Even when Jack knew she was fucking losing patience with him, she was still patient with him. She'd just get angry and flustered and sometimes teary. And he made him kind of hurt and ache – and mad at himself – that it was him who was making her feel all those kinds of ways.

When they'd finally managed to look at each other – it settled into smiling at each other. It was hard to look at each other and not smile. For any length of time. And this was a timed exercise.

A timed exercise while they found each other's breathing and took each other's air in and out. A circular movement that really when you're starting out the goal is like five minutes. Though, like before there'd been times they'd go for like thirty.

Jack wasn't sure how long they'd gone that night. He did know they'd gone long enough – and that the whole experience had been intimate enough – that it'd become ragingly clear to both of them that he had a hard-on. But when he moved to break the contact, Renee had kept a gentle grip on his wrists and a firm grip on his eyes – that clearly sought permission for when she leaned forward and hung there for a second and then they kissed.

And then … there wasn't anymore then. It wasn't any other kind of build up or discussion or planning around readiness or next steps or where they were at or what was to come or any of that. The next steps were their clothes were off and they were up in the loft on the mattress.

It was so fucking different than their last time. Their only time. Better. And worse.

Jack was realizing he didn't know shit when it came to sex. Or at least when it came to being the kind of guy in bed that she needed him to be.

But he was still … nervous with her. They still both had a lot of boundaries and he kind of knew they both would. And they were both still learning compromises and like when and how the other would be willing to bend.

Like it'd been sort of hard to let her have the light on up there. He would've been OK with the lights on down in the living space. But next to them. It was hard. Not that he thought she spent a lot of time looking at much of anything that time. But Jack knew that if they were going to make this really real, in the future he was going have to let her do a more real inventory of his body. And his scars. The physical ones and the ones not so physical. But that still sort of manifested themselves when the lights were on in a way.

It was easier in that … the whole intimacy exercise there had kind of been their foreplay. So beyond some kissing and getting undressed they hadn't had to deal with the who's hands were allowed to be where thing. Because they both had issues there. That had previously made their foreplay and all the who did and who didn't do oral and manual and mutual masturbation stuff kind of interesting.

Actually. Maybe their sex lives had been kind of fucked up. Up to that point? Maybe that night had been the most normal they'd gotten? Because they'd kind of just gotten right down to it.

Renee was so different – physically – from the other girls Jack had been with too, though.

Sometimes he kind of felt like he was going to break her. Which was fucking patronizing, he knew. She'd hate it if he vocalized it that way. But she was like almost a foot shorter than him. And he had kind of been with curvier girls with some meat to them. That wasn't Renee. Her meat was all muscle. She was so fucking beautiful in so many ways. Inside and out. She was super fit and super strong in more ways than one.

But Jack still was acutely aware that he was physically bigger than her. And he didn't want her to ever feel physically overwhelmed or overpowered or suffocated by him. That might sort of kill him a bit on the inside if he knew he ever did anything to make her feel that way. And he knew that with her past – with what happened, with her still struggling with her own PTSD and triggers – there was going to always be the real possibility that he would do something in bed, with a touch or movement or smell or taste or even something he said or the way he said it – that might bring back memories and make her feel all those things.

And that was just a reality that he was trying to figure out how to cope with. She was trying to help him figure out how to operate through it too. They were trying to figure out how to operate through it together. But he also felt like it shouldn't be on her. It felt like it was just kind of another way he sucked as a boyfriend. And as a sex partner. And just as a friend and man and human being.

And then there was just sex. That … the majority of his experience was with Christina. Who had pretty much told him what to do. Or put out orders or demands. Or actually, a lot of the time had just wanted him to do nothing. She'd just expected him to be some sort of human dildo for her to ride.

And he'd spent a lot of years thinking he was alright with that. Thinking that that maybe that was sort of the way it was supposed to be because a lot of his other limited experience up to that was pretty much getting sucked off. And that didn't exactly demand a whole lot out of him in the performance department either.

But yea. It wasn't alright. And it definitely had taken him up to his almost twenty-sixth birthday as a sexually active but grossly clueless and rather ineffective sexual partner. But – yeah – he knew there were other aspects at play there too. And so did Renee. And that made shit complicated and kind of shitty too. It added all this other shit and layers to all of it.

But it generally meant Jack pretty much felt he wasn't what Renee wanted or expected. Not just as a boyfriend. But like really in bed. That he probably also really wasn't what she needed to like reclaim that whole of her life again and to make it whole and healthy. If she could. And she deserved to. And maybe he couldn't do that for her. Because he didn't know if he could ever really do that for himself. Because … he knew he was kind of more than a little fucked in the head about all of it on a whole lot of levels.

But Jack also knew he didn't really know what Renee wanted or expected. Christina ordered him around. Renee didn't. Though, with what they had done – before – she'd always been just as good as him at boundaries and telling him when to stop something or what didn't feel good. So there was that.

But the problem was even though she kind of clearly wanted control in that part of their relationship – she also … didn't want it to the extent like Christina had. Like Renee probably wanted it a relatively normal amount. Jack didn't really know since … yeah. Limited experience. But she definitely didn't feel the need to be the one on top all the time. Or at least in the grand total of two times they had done it now. And Jack got the sense that pretty much … at least until they kind of figured out how they worked and fit together and all that … she was going to expect him to … take the lead.

That was also a problem. Because Jack was starting to realize he really didn't know how to be the one who was initiating and directing the sex. Like at all. He'd actually been feeling super nervous and awkward and uncomfortable about it. And incredibly self-conscious. And just stupid.

And then at the same time he didn't want to be doing anything that was hurting or triggering Renee or even just making her uncomfortable. And he was still kind of learning her sounds and faces. And right now some of the pleasure sounds kinda sounded like uncomfortable sounds.

But they'd kind of figured it out. She'd moved into just saying 'That's good' a bit. That was kind of awkward in it's own way. But he guessed he could work on that. He hoped she'd want to work on that.

Because everything with Renee was different. And it teaching him that he didn't know shit when he came to being a boyfriend. Or a friend. Or a man. Or a human being. Just like he didn't know shit when it came to sex. Or what maybe being a lover even meant. But she made him want to be better in a whole lot of categories. All the above and a whole lot of other ones too. And she made him feel like … someone actually cared about what he felt … or wanted or needed or feared … in those categories too.

So he hoped she wanted to work on it. Even though the sex really hadn't been spectacular. And he hadn't gotten her off. But they'd kissed and looked at each other. At least much as you can when you're that close to each other.

And it'd been nice. He thought it'd been nice.

He hoped she thought it was nice.

She was still there. She was still draped against him. But she was quiet. And maybe she was thinking all this kind of stuff too.

"What you thinking about?" Jack asked.

She hummed a little. He liked when she made that sound. And he felt her smile against his chest. Her cheek rub there a bit.

"Peanut butter," she said.

Jack stared at the messy nest of hair at the crown of her head. "Peanut butter?" he said with some disbelief.

Renee made an amused sound and rolled away from him a bit, snuggling in next to him to look more directly at him. She gave him a smile. It was real. He could tell. He'd known her long enough to have seen her real ones and the wishy-washy ones she put one when she was forced to. And the looks she gave when she didn't even try to smile at all. When it was too hard. But this was a smile. And it was real. And it was for him.

"When I was doing therapy – after I left the hospital – I had asked my therapist when I'd know I was ready for a relationship again, and ready for sex in a relationship again. And she'd told me when I believed I was at the point and I was with someone that after we'd had sex I could see myself being able to go back to continuing my daily activities or what I was doing just before with that person," she said.

Jack stared at her. "And you're thinking about peanut butter?"

She smiled at him. "I'm thinking about peanut butter."

"And that's … a good thing?"

Renee shrugged a little. But the smile stayed on her face. "I think so. We hadn't had eaten yet, Jack."

He made a small sound of acknowledgement at that and glanced around for some indication of the time. But they'd both left their phones down in the living space – and there sure wasn't surplus space up here for something like a clock.

"Want to Seamless something?" he asked.

But she was staring at him and her hand landed on his cheek. "What are you thinking?" And he knew she didn't mean where they should order from.

Jack only shrugged. And he shifted a bit on the mattress – moving to get up and to go grab the phone to get them something to eat. But her hand landed on his hip.

"You weren't ready," she said.

He exhaled and turned back to look at her. "It's not that," he said. "It's that … I just don't know what this means."

"I don't either," she admitted. "But it felt like we worked on some things together tonight. And I think that's pretty much what couples do when they're trying for the long haul, Jack. And …," she gestured a bit at the mattress and between them, "… this … was nice … and fun …".

He gave her a thin smile. He knew it was way weaker than the way realer one she'd given him earlier.

"I think I've got some peanut butter," he said.

And he found his Tshirt first and pulled it on before she did any more examination of him. And then dug his boxers out from the sheets and pulled them up his ass before sliding down the railings of the ladder back into the living space.

He stepped into the kitchen and rooted around his near bare cupboards. It was a sad state of affairs. He may still end up having to order in or run to the Chinese grocer on the corner to see if they had some peanut butter or something resembling it.

It was a couple minutes before Renee came down the ladder and slipped into the bathroom. She was in there for another couple minutes cleaning up. So that at least gave him some time to pop some bread into the toaster. And he had managed to locate the peanut butter that he thought – knew – he had somewhere by the time she re-emerged.

He held out the jar at her like it was a prize. It earned a small smile.

"Well, I need a spoon," she said.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Seriously? I'm making you toast."

"That just ruins it," Renee said.

He allowed a small laugh but retrieved a spoon for her. Renee took a heaping spoonful and worked at taking a small bite of it, licking it off her lips and the top of her mouth while seemingly savoring it. Then she handed the jar back to Jack. He allowed another amused noise but grab a spoon of his own and took a helping too.

They both leaned against the small counter, staring across the small, cramped space.

"You want me to walk you back to your place after? We could stop and get something real to eat," Jack offered.

"Not really," Renee said. He gave her a surprised look. But she exhaled deeply and shook her head. "I don't want to go back until I can talk with Tara. I get she had a right to have girlfriends over. But …"

"Yea," Jack acknowledged. "That was a little much."

Renee shook her head again and stared at the spoon with a significantly smaller mount of peanut butter left on it. "I can't deal with that kind of situation happening regularly, I don't think."

"I think that's fair," he allowed.

"I hope so," she said. And she stared at his space some more. "Jack, you're an architect. You've designed some awesome spaces at Olivia and Brian's. Why aren't you doing anything with this space?"

He stared across into it too. For a long beat. "I dunno. I guess I didn't really expect to be here that long. I thought I'd just be in here while I did my Masters and then … I dunno. My job would have me living somewhere else or give me the cash to live somewhere else."

"So then what about now?" Renee said.

He sighed and looked at her. "I guess for a while I thought we might be getting to the point we might want to talk about moving into together. So I didn't see the point in doing too much here. And now … I'm regrouping."

Her eyes moved away from him and back to looking at the couch and the window and that was about it.

"How's that going?" she asked.

Jack shrugged. "I don't know. Baby steps. Right?"

She allowed him a thinner smile than the one he'd received before.

"It's OK if I stay over?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yea. Absolutely," he said. And pointed at the couch. "And I can stay down here if you want. Or vice-versa. The ladder's a little rough for midnight pee-runs when you aren't used to it. And you have to watch your head too. Though, your noggin might be OK, peewee."

That got a firmer smile. And he hand found his along the counter and gripped around his fingers a bit. "No. I think I'd like you to come back up too."

"Sure," he allowed with another little nod and let himself lace his fingers with hers.

She finished licking the spoon and set it on the counter. But then picked up the jar.

"Seriously, Renee, I can order us something. Or I've got some cheese we could put on the toast."

But she just gave him a smile and turned the label at him. It was a cookie recipe.

"I remember making this as a kid," she said. "It's super simple. Just peanut butter and an egg. My mom would get so mad I was wasting so much of the peanut butter in one go. But it'd usually get some points with her boyfriends and sometimes get the nicer ones to leave me alone."

Jack frowned at her. Their stories were different. But they weren't so different. "Yea. We'd make this too."

"It says it's gluten-free," she said.

He shrugged. "OK," he acknowledged and put the jar back on the counter, twisting the lid back on. He wasn't super interested in baking cookies or revisiting their of their childhoods at that pointing in the night if that's what she was shooting at. It was a weeknight. They both had to be at work in the morning.

"When I had lunch with Olivia—"

"I wish you hadn't done that," Jack groaned at her and adjusted himself a bit out of her grip.

But Renee just kept his eyes. "She's worried about you."

"Yea. So worried she still finds some kind of excuse every time I call and try to set up anything to go over," Jack said.

"Jack, you're going to just need to show up," Renee pressed at him. "And then keep showing up. This has gone on long enough that you're at the point that it's going to be uncomfortable and awkward and maybe a little unpleasant for everyone. But you've just got to rip off the band-aid and go and do it. And prove to them you're willing to put in the work and be there. And keep telling yourself that you're the grown up and Benji and Emily and the little kids."

He exhaled audibly at her. "It's not that simple. You always make it sound so simple."

"And it's not as complicated as you make it sound either, Jack," she pressed at him.

He huffed and unscrewed the peanut butter jar to shove another spoonful in his mouth. Maybe it'd keep him from saying something to her that he might regret – when it actually felt like maybe they'd made some progress that night.

"Anyway, Olivia said that Benji is working on some projects about food and family traditions and recipes. And you'd mentioned that Olivia and Brian need some help watching them later this week."

"They've got the Captain and Eileen on babysitting duty," he smacked around the peanut butter sticking to his mouth.

"Well, maybe you could mention we're available, and you could offer our help with his recipe project," she said and flashed the jar at him again.

He tilted his head at her. "Nothing says white trailer trash and poverty in America like being the kid going in with your recipe off the peanut butter jar – ingredients: one cup peanut butter and one egg – and calling that your big standout family tradition you want to share with the whole class."

And Renee tilted her head back at him. "That says a lot about what's really going on," she said.

"And what's that?" Jack said.

"Well, beyond unresolved anger, sadness and pain about your childhood – jealousy, Jack," she said.

He rolled his eyes and went to move away from her but she caught his hand and laced her fingers between his again.

"Jack," she pressed at him. "You're jealous of your little nephew. You're jealous of Emmy. You're jealous of Olivia and Brian. I think you're jealous of most people you encounter in life. And you just need to stop. Stop measuring yourself against them using whatever barometer it is that you're using."

"I am not jealous," he said. "I am sick of Olivia and Brian basically just telling me to get over it. I'm sick of them … having just gotten over it. Or maybe they had less to get over. I'm sick of everyone thinking I'm supposed to be on some sort of timeline."

"You aren't on anyone's timeline but your own, Jack," Renee said. "But, life is time limited – and you're wasting time."

He let out a frustrated out and pulled away from her a bit and went to sink into the couch. She followed curling next to him. Her knee just barely touching against his. He sat staring straight ahead while she stared at him. And they sat like that for a while.

"Do you think Olivia still is fucked up from what happened? With Lewis?"

"I think we know she still struggled with some things," Renee said.

"I mean with relationship stuff," Jack said flatly.

Renee shrugged lightly. "Likely."

"Then why is she always up on her fucking high-horse about me?"

"Jack, does she even really know about you?" Renee said. "You've hardly even told me anything and I'm the one in a relationship with you. I'm the one sleeping with you."

He sighed and looked at her. "She had a fucked up childhood too. I don't understand why she's always at me."

"Because she's basically your mom, Jack. She's just being a mom. A good one. She's trying to look out for you. And trying to get you to be the best man and person and adult you can be. And she's trying to look after the two little kids she still has at home too."

Jack sighed and rubbed at his face. Renee found his hand again.

"Jack, I really like that you've got a self-made family. I like that family. And I don't want to miss Thanksgiving and Christmas with your family. And I'm really scared if we miss Thanksgiving and Christmas with your family, you might not have much of a family anymore. So I need you to really need you to try to fix this even though it's likely not going to feel very good for the first while. I bet making this family didn't feel very good at the start either. Until it did."

He made a kind of amused sound and looked at her. "Kind of like us?"

"If I didn't like the way this felt, Jack, I wouldn't be here," she said.

And his eyes glassed a little.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Please review, comment or provide feedback.**

**There's been none the past two chapters. It's demoralizing.**

**An update was added the other day to Best Laid Plans for those who don't have alerts set.**

**Thank you for your readership.**


	26. Babysitter

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

"Emily, you're making this really hard to do," Olivia put to her little girl, as Emmy hung off her hip.

Her daughter was clutching at her and doing that pathetic little whine like she was some kind of wounded animal. It was really making Olivia's attempt to quickly cut up some celery sticks for after-school snack a bit of a chore. What was happening quickly, though, was a loss of patience. Olivia was at a level of exhaustion and stress that was making it increasingly harder to remain even with her children that evening. They were all at a saturation point – or maybe more of a boiling over point. It was a good thing that it was almost the holiday weekend. Not that it seemed like it would get there soon enough or that it would bring any sort of break in the waves they'd been trying to keep their heads above water in that fall.

"Nana-Lean makes apple cookies," Emmy whimpered harder at her.

"One, do you se Nana Eileen here?" Olivia directed at her daughter. "Because I don't."

"Where's she?" Emmy wailed again.

"You know that," Olivia said. They'd had repeated conversations about that since she'd picked up the kids at school. It was one of the reasons that both Emmy and Benji were in defiant-meltdown mood. School-week exhaustion had set in for the kids too and the weekend wasn't kicking off the way they wanted and they were making sure their mother knew as much. But Olivia had already known that before she'd even picked them up. "And, two, I don't have a clue what apple cookies are."

Benji glanced up from his own sulking on the stool on the opposite side of the kitchen island. He'd been pouting and skipping insistently through the music using her phone. The first notes on the stereo system in their sitting space were barely being allowed to play before he was hopping to the next one. It was also driving her a little crazy and she was getting close to grabbing the device from him too.

"They're when you cut the apples into circles and put something on them. Like peanut butter or honey or cinnamon or whatever," he muttered. Big brother explanation time. Apparently he was on-side with his Little Duck. That also didn't come as a surprise to Olivia. He'd made it clear that Mom wasn't going to be his favorite person that night. Or that weekend. Or likely the coming week. And he was doing his best to make sure she knew it.

Olivia sighed inwardly at that and rolled her eyes downward so she could continue her chopping – trying not to catch her own fingers and to keep her whining child away from the sharp object too.

Both Nana Eileen and Gramma Janet spoiled the kids in the after-school snack department. Among several other departments. Though, admittedly, Olivia was rarely home early enough that she'd ever had much responsibility in preparing the pre-dinner snacks for her children. She's always felt putting out some grapes or handing a box of crackers was about enough. Apparently grandparents felt otherwise.

"I can put peanut butter on your celery," Olivia provided her daughter.

"I want apple cookies," Emmy whined again.

Olivia made a mildly annoyed sound. She just didn't feel up to the battle of the wills that night. There was too much else on the go. So she settled on a compromise and reached for the fruit dish on the counter. She grabbed an apple and set on the edge of the counter at Emmy's eye-level. "You can have an apple."

Emmy stared at it. "It not cut-ed," she said.

Olivia gave the child a look – and her little girl just stared right up at her. A look of mild manipulation combined with request. The puppy dog look that all children apparently learn. And Oliva made herself release another exhale. She grabbed it and plopped it – firmer than necessary – onto the cutting board and quickly quartered it and sliced out the remaining bits of core in a firm, single swipe. She held out a piece to Emmy. The little girl took it and examined it.

"Cin-a-min?" She looked at her again with those pathetic eyes.

"Don't press your luck," Olivia nodded at her.

That got Olivia an exceptional amount of stink-eye – clearly taught to Emmy by her big brother – but the chunk of apple went into her mouth for a big bite. And it at least momentarily stopped the pathetic sounds that had been coming out of Emily for the past twenty-minutes. And it got the girl off her hip too while she gnawed on the snack.

Olivia sighed, turning back to the counter, and cleaning up some of the scraps of the apple and celery. She looked at her son.

Benji was slouched nearly onto the counter top as he sulked and stared at her phone screen and whatever stream of music he was flicking through and finding nothing to his liking. He'd been like that for nearly the full twenty-minutes they'd been in the door too. Not starting in on his homework. Not helping with snack. Not providing any dinner insight. Not jumping in on getting some of his weekend chores started so he could get to screen-time, play-time and free-time faster. And definitely not speaking to her.

But Olivia understood. This Friday was definitely not going the way any of them had planned for.

First, it'd been nearly an entire week – more – where it was Brian's schedule and caseload and supervisor duties that were keeping him at the office all hours. So Olivia had been having to try to adjust her schedule so they didn't have to lean too heavily on baby-sitting help when they already had two nights that week where they did need baby-sitting help for the kids' parent-teacher interviews. But then she had her own firestorms to put out at the office. Her own cases. Her own staff politics. And a staff that seemed to be getting smaller by the minute. She was feeling the crunch of it too. Their work-life-family balance didn't feel so balanced lately.

It'd definitely been one of those weeks where she was reminded what being a single parent was like – and she was grateful for the help her did have. Though, she was sure that she was giving off tone and attitude to Brian about just how much she wasn't appreciating his job or schedule at the moment. And she knew it was hypocritical given there were just as many weeks – sometimes more – where he ended up being the one picking up the slack around the house with the child care and parenting duties because of her job, schedule and caseload too.

A week of almost single-handedly managing the parenting duties and household duties would've been enough to make this a bit of a week. But it hadn't been near the end of it.

Next, Cragen had let her know that Eileen had been asked to do babysitting duties with her other grandchildren – because apparently all of New York's public school system had to schedule their middle school parent-teacher system on one of the same two nights. And, of course, as luck would have it that'd meant that Eileen's daughter's children and Benji's schools were conflicted. Of course. And Cragen's Faint Hope Last Chance Life Partner had been asked to help out at that house too. Completely understandable – but needless to say Emmy was doing her best to demonstrate that she wasn't going to be very understanding about it.

So that had started their Friday off poorly and it'd only gone downhill from there.

Then Olivia had gotten the call at work around lunch that Benji's name had come up in the triaging for his immunoglobulin treatment for next week. But they needed to do a blood draw to make sure he was still in a position to be able to cope with the treatment. And his doctor wanted to schedule the lumbar puncture for the day before the treatment too as a final decision on if they were going to go ahead.

So that'd been fantastic. She'd had to pry herself out of work – and leave Fin reluctantly in-charge while she juggled her phone all afternoon in trying to help manage the pressing cases and paperwork and politics all by remote.

Olivia had to go and get Benji out of school to take him for the lab work. The surprise early dismissal of her arrival to retrieve him – and then the trip back across into the city to go to the hospital lab – had meant that, of course, Olivia had to explain to her son that it meant his spinal tap procedure and then the IV treatment would be the following week.

And that was going to go over like a lead balloon. Not that it would've really mattered when his name came up on the list. Her son was nervous – they all were. But the timing this time was particularly horrible.

Brian was supposed to be out of town for a couple days. So between dealing with work and Benji's anxieties that afternoon she'd been on-and-off the phone with Brian to see if he could rearrange his rather pressing work trip. Only the flurry of texts she was getting from him – that didn't sound like it was going well. So there was a strong possibility that Daddy wasn't going to be there for these hospital days, which wasn't sitting while with Benji.

To make it even better the treatment and the lumbar puncture was scheduled to happen right before his Thanksgiving break. So he was likely going to be laid up the whole holiday weekend. That was enough to upset their little boy. But it rocked the boat in their family too. It'd been that once again that year their previous family holiday traditions would go to the wayside. And they'd all feel it – even if her and Brian tried to make the best of it. If Olivia came up with new tradition and activities to sell to the kids as distraction from what they traditionally did in the days following Thanksgiving and the kick-off to the Christmas holidays.

She'd already been starting to process just what that might look like. She was trying to tell herself that they all just really needed a down-weekend anyway and maybe this would really just be a good excuse to actually slow down. But then she'd barely left the lab with Benji when it was Cragen on her phone with more bad news.

John had had a fall and was in the hospital. It wasn't entirely clear the cause or the level of worry to attribute to it yet. The assumption was just poor exhaustion and weakness from Munch's ongoing treatment. But it automatically raised the fear of more than that. Or the downward slope they were on with their friend now. The limited time that was left. What the cancer – and the treatment – was doing to his body. And the constant fear – and understanding – that eventually the disease was going to get the upper hand. And the question of if now that was the time.

Cragen was with John at the hospital. He'd apologetically explained he didn't think he could come to watch the kids that night. That he wanted to see what the doctors said about Munch. If John was released that night, Don was going to make sure he got home and settled safely (if he couldn't convince him to spend the night at his and Eileen's). Completely understandable. And Olivia was grateful he was there. It was just incredibly inconvenient.

More inconvenient when she'd reached Brian to let him know what was going on. It'd insighted another mild tizzy in her own life-partner. And Brian had gone over to the hospital too – dealing with the rest of his work-day and attempt to reorganize travel arrangements – by remote too. So he hadn't been able to pick up Emmy from school – and he wouldn't even be home before they had to be to Benji's parent-teacher interview. She'd just have to meet him there – and she'd hope that Brian did get there on time so she didn't have to repeat everything that got said.

"Benj, are you going to eat any of this?" Olivia put to him about celery she'd been cutting up.

He just shrugged at her and flicked through to another song. She rubbed at her eyebrow.

"Benji, I need you to stop with the skipping, please."

His response to that was to very purposely triple-skip the next three songs.

Olivia glared at him while he did it – and he was sure to not so much look at her. But she reached and tugged the phone from his hand. He did meet her eyes then. They were tired and scared and sad and angry. A mix of emotions that were clearly blubbling to the surface that he didn't know how to deal with in that moment – so he was acting out.

"Enough," she put to him directly and pulled her phone firmly from him and set it on her side of the counter.

Emmy stood on her tippy-toes to look at the screen and then poked at it with a sticky-apple-juicy finger. "I wanna listen to Rooooooooar!" she said.

Apparently the phone had been trained in child-speak and it shuffled to start playing the song, Emmy starting to sway along with it animatedly. But Olivia shook her head and reached to pause the music.

"Mommy has a headache," she muttered and then swiped the food scraps into her hand and held them out at Emmy. "Emily, can you please take that out to the composter."

Emmy shoved the remaining slice of the apple – hanging half-way out of her mouth – and grabbed it. "I put it in my worm garden," she muttered.

"Let's not talk with our mouths' full," Olivia said but without much conviction.

"It's almost winter," Benji said. He'd retrieved a piece of celery and was just peeling a piece of the stringy bits of it – string by string. "The worms are dead."

Olivia sighed audibly at him for that moment. But Emmy didn't care, she was already trotting for their door into the back lot. "Nooooo," she said as she rammed her feet into the gumboots by the door. "They did down to hibernate. Dis be a good snack when they wake up. They be hungry."

Benji rolled his eyes. But Olivia kept his eyes. He gave her defiant look and went back to peeling the string off the celery. She waited until Emily was out the door and then reached and took it from his hand, setting it back on the plate.

"Enough," she said to him again – directly.

He just slouched against the counter. His arms folding and his chin resting on them.

"Why don't you go get your homework out of your bag," she said. "We can get started on it before I have to go out."

"It's Friday," Benji said. "I don't hafta do homework time on Friday. I've got all weekend."

"You don't have all weekend this weekend, Benji," she said. "You've got Taylor's party tomor—"

"I'm not going," he interrupted and reached to start peeling the celery again.

Olivia reached and again took it from him. This time she removed the whole plate from his reach – setting it off on the counter behind her.

"Why aren't you going?" she said as he slouched on the counter again.

Benji just shrugged.

"Well, Benji, if you really aren't going, you better get on the phone to Taylor and his mom so they can have some notice you aren't planning on showing up. But I think it's going to be pretty rude and hurtful for you to cancel on your friend and his family at this point."

He gazed at her and rubbed his cheek against his hand. "I wanna play hockey with Dad before he hasta leave," he said quietly. "'Cuz I can't do sports after the lumber needles."

"You can't do sports for a few days," she said. "And you know Dad will take you to play hockey almost any time you want. But he's not likely going to have time to take you tomorrow, Benji. So I think it's a pretty poor excuse to cancel out on your friend's birthday last minute."

Benji just gazed at her. The sadness – and the sulk – was apparent.

"I thought you were looking forward to this."

"Well, now Dad can't come and can't take me," Benji said.

"I will take you, Benji," she put to him firmly.

"You'll bring Emmy," he moaned.

Olivia shook her head. "No, I'll make sure—"

But there was a knock on the front door and Benji looked and then buried his face into his arms even more – peeking out at her.

She kept his eyes. "You need to set an example for your sister," she said and then came around the counter and pulled his backpack off the neighboring stool, setting it next to him. "I want you to get started on your project before I leave, Benjamin. Get it out please."

He just buried his face back in his arms.

Olivia allowed another little sigh and watched him for a beat. But as the knock on the door was followed by a ring of the doorbell, she moved toward it.

She'd followed up her calls with Cragen and Brian about John with trying to make alternative baby-sitting arrangements for the kid.

It hadn't been easy. Janet was down in Atlantic City on a Girls' Weekend. It was an annual tradition among her and some of her friends – apparently a pre-Black Friday and Christmas Shopping gambling trip to presumably increase the coffers ahead of the holidays. It seemed sort of counter-intuitive. But seemed to be something the group of women looked forward to. Olivia knew for Janet it was more an excuse to getaway – not something she did very often. It was a bit of an event for Brian's mother. Some dinners out and maybe a show.

So she'd tried Jack even though that was its own kettle of worms. But, of course, he hadn't responded to her call or text immediately. She assumed he was still ignoring her and attempting to be stand-off-ish in proving some kind of point. So she'd just moved on to her next best bet. But when she'd gotten in touch with Alex and Trevor she'd found out that Leo had the chicken pox – and they definitely didn't need to add that to their household's plate. So that had eliminated them as an option. She hadn't even tried Barba when she suspected he'd be tied up with parent-teacher conferences that night too – and likely intimidated by the possibility of being left with her two children along even if only for a couple hours. And she didn't think that asking Rollins and – or – Carisi was the best idea. She had gotten the clear impression they had their own issues they were working through at the moment and likely needed some time and space to be fuelling their own discussions.

She'd about been at the point she was ready to take the kids with her to the parent-teacher interview. It wasn't ideal – and it was going to limit some of the kinds of conversation she wanted to have. But it was just going to have to work in the moment. It'd been then that Jack had finally called her back.

But as she opened the door – as expected – it wasn't Jack who was there.

"Hi," Renee offered with a weak smile.

Olivia returned it. "Thanks for doing this," she said, and held the door open a bit more for her to come in.

"It's no problem," Renee said, as she bent to slip off her boots. "Sorry it took longer to get over here than I thought."

"That's OK," Olivia said. "I knew you were being generous. I know what the F Line is like at this time of day."

"Yea," Renee muttered as she straightened. "It's pretty bad. Crowded."

Olivia observed her at that moment. "You're OK?" she asked.

"Yea," Renee nodded and allowed another weak, awkward smile – or really more of an attempt at one. "How's Sergeant Munch doing?"

"Ahh," Olivia allowed with a shake of her head and a little shrugged as she touched at her chin. "It sounds like he's going to be OK. Just some weakness. A few stitches. Brian and I might try to go back over to see him if things are going OK here with the kids."

Renee nodded. "Yea, sure," she agreed. "I'm sure we'll be fine. And, I mean, Jack should be here soon-ish."

Olivia nodded but stared at her. "He said he was in Hyde Park?"

"Umm …," Renee nodded and clutched a bit at her bag. "It's not really my place to say too much. But, yeah."

Olivia just looked at her and the young woman gestured a bit.

"He's being head-hunted," she provided with some mild reluctance.

Olivia raised her eyebrows a bit at that. "Oh? In Hyde Park?"

Renee looked down at her socked feet for the moment. "I think it's more Poughkeepsie. It's a landscape architecture firm that specializes in playground design and park spaces."

"In Poughkeepsie?" Olivia gaped again.

Renee offered a small shrug. "Their fabrication workshop is up there. They wanted him to have a chance to see it. They have a studio and some industrial space in Flushing too. He seems … excited about it. It's … good to see."

"Umm …, OK," Olivia allowed. "Wow …"

"He should be back into the city in a couple hours, though," Renee said. "He was waiting for the train when I talked to him last."

"OK …," Olivia said, eyeing the young woman. That seemed like a whole lot of new conversations she now needed – wanted – to have with both Renee and Jack. But she didn't have time for that tonight. At least not in that moment. So she just gestured again for Renee to follow her further into the house.

They'd barely stepped into the living space when Emmy spotted them and came charging for her inward bound from the back lot.

"Ren-nay!" she said and then looked past her. "Where Dack?"

"He's coming," Renee smiled at the little girl. "He'll be here soon."

"Emily, go take off your boots, please," Olivia sighed at her and nudged her back toward the door. There was now dirt and grassy and gravel spread from the back door almost through to the front.

"Hi, Benji," Renee greeted as they got toward the kitchen. But the little boy just gave her some side-eye and suddenly got very interested in the homework he'd at least listened and pulled out of his backpack.

"Ben-gee nervous 'cuz it his parent-teach-er inter-vue," Emmy said trotting back over.

"I bet you don't have anything to be nervous about," Renee tried. "I've heard you're just killing it in middle school."

Benji just gave her another sideways look and remained silent.

"My teach-er only say good report tings 'bout me," Emmy said. "So I'll get Farm-acy ouce creem. Ben-gee might not."

"Shh," Olivia said, stroking at her little girl's hair. "Everyone has to have a good report for any of us to get ice cream, and I'm sure Benji's teacher is going to have lots of good things to say about him too."

Benji just gave her a little look.

"Umm," Renee said and dug a bag of dairy-free chocolate candies out of her bag. "I heard you're working on a recipe project at school and I remembered you really like Monster Cookies, Benji." She nudged the bag toward him on the counter but Emmy was already grabbing at it to look.

"Ben-gee, it say dairy-free, sug-er-free but they look lime Ms!" she squealed at him.

"Yea," Renee offered him a little smile but he was still hardly looking at her. Though he offered the chocolate candies a small glance out of curiosity. "I thought of you when I saw those, Ben. And I thought maybe it'd be fun to bake some cookies. Maybe practice following or writing out a recipe."

Benji gave Olivia a little glance and she gave him a small smile, taking the bag gently from Emily to give a little look over and then smoothing the bag back out on the counter so her boy could take a look too and gave it some consideration.

"You know," she said, "I bet Unkie Munchie would love it if you guys baked him some cookies for us to take over to him this weekend. You know how he loves sweets."

"We are his Sweets," Emmy said and crawled up onto the stool next to her brother. "From his Fluff-er Nutter." She looked directly at Renee. "That Daddy. Yipp-y Skipp-y hippity hop!"

"Shh," Olivia said and pressed a kiss into the side of Emmy's head and then rounded next to Benji's stool. She slide a twenty next to his elbow. "Be a big boy and a gentleman," she whispered into his ear. "Pick some take-out that everyone will like and treat the girls for me. OK?"

He gave her sad eyes. But she just pressed a kiss into his temple and gave the side of his head a stroke. "Everything will be OK. We'll be home as soon as we can."

He just sunk back onto his elbows and Emmy grabbed the twenty and waved it at Renee. "'Picy noddles!" she declared.

"Sounds good," Renee said. "What do you think, Ben?"

But he only shrugged again.

Olivia sighed a little and ran her nails down the crease of his spine. But she gathered her things and mouthed a 'thank you' at Renee and headed for the door.

There was going to be no winning this battle no matter how long she stayed and tried to settle the kids. She would just have to hope that there weren't more causalities between now and the time she got home.


	27. Offers

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

Jack treaded down the stairs and peeked into the living space. It was empty. The TV wasn't even on. He glanced back up the stairs – measuring if he'd actually heard anyone down there or not. He thought he had. But maybe it was nothing. Though, Brian was usually a super early riser. Worse than Mom. And it was definitely early. It was just after five.

He thought about going back up the stairs. And he also thought about if maybe he should just grab his things and slip out before everyone was up. Though, Renee would likely rip into him for that move. He'd likely end up berating himself a bit about it too. But sometimes avoidance was just easier. Probably way easier considering how the night before had gone. Em might've been decently happy to see him. But Jamin definitely hadn't given him any kind of easy pass. And neither of them had gone down easy for the night either. Though, Jamin had pretty much played mute the whole night and disappeared upstairs to bed on his own. But that was kind of its own challenge.

He exhaled – thinking he was actually going to go back up and grab his shit and jet. But then he heard some movement in the kitchen – and that exhale turned into a bit of a sigh. He stood still – weighing that time if he'd been heard or not. Listening more to see if it sounded like Brian or Mom. It definitely wasn't one of the kids.

But then he just gave up. He manned up and he took the last couple steps down and rounded the corner.

It was Mom – Olivia. She looked tired. But how couldn't you be tired at like 5 a.m. And he was pretty sure he hadn't heard Mom and Brian come in until like 2-ish. So she probably hadn't really slept. Actually, she almost definitely hadn't slept. Because Jack was also pretty sure that not too long after Mom and Brian did get home and did actually come upstairs to their bedroom, he'd heard someone – he assumed Jamin – go down to their room. And when he'd come out of the like Emmy's room turned playroom turned guest room that morning he'd sort of peeked in the kids' door and it was pretty clear neither of them were there at that point. So they must've both gone down to Mom and Brian's bedroom some point in the like barely three hours since they got home and now.

But at the same time it sort of seemed like Mom always looked tired when he saw her anymore. Not that he'd seen her a lot this fall. But whenever he did it always kind of seemed like she was aging or something. Or just looking her age. Jack didn't really know. He just knew that like when they'd meet she definitely looked like she was in her 40s – and now she pretty much definitely looked in her 50s. The way she dressed and did her hair and make-up and even talked and acted. Maybe it was just a Mom thing and having kids thing or being like a supervisor or whatever at work. But Olivia definitely seemed … more like matrimonial.

And she just kind of looked … Jack didn't know … maybe like … he didn't want to say sick. He knew she wasn't sick. But she almost seemed paler and maybe … puffy? In the face. But it was weird because at the same time he could tell enough that she'd been losing weight too. But maybe it'd been coming off in early places or ways? It was different than Brian. Sometimes it was almost like Brian looked gaunt, which was weird too because it was also visible that he'd put on some muscle mass. But it must've also been in a weird way.

Maybe it was just what stress did to you in middle age?

Mom was staying at the island counter top really nursing a coffee. It was more like she was smelling it or like letting the steam break up some sinus congestion or something. She was all wrapped up in a house coat that she hadn't really closed properly. She mustn't have thought anyone was up either. Or she just didn't care. It wasn't like she was wearing anything too revealing. It sort of looked like a tank and baggy lounge pants. Nothing Jack hadn't seen her in a thousand times before. But she still reached and tucked the house coat around her a bit tighter as he came around the corner and she spotted him.

"Morning," she mouthed way more than said. And she went back to gazing at what she'd been flipping through on the counter. Jack knew it was Jamin's school project. At least that been what was sitting there the night before.

He moved over and slumped up onto the stool across from her. "I thought you were Brian," he mumbled.

She made a small sound of dismissal and glanced up at him like she was going to say something. But then she kind of stopped. And Jack realized she stopped because she was staring at the starts of the sleeve tattoo that he had snaking from his shoulder to elbow so far. It'd go further down before it was done. And he thought it'd likely span some other places too. He was liking the experience. The commentary. The pain. The reminder. The art. But he'd forgotten that it was visible below the sleeve of a Tshirt now. And that Mom hadn't seen it. Though, he wouldn't be surprised if Brian had told her.

Jack fidgeted for a moment. He reached and tugged at the sleeve of the Tshirt he'd pulled on. Not that that did anything. So he held at his bicep – covering some of what was visible to her. As much as that really did anything much.

But Olivia made no comment. Her eyes moved to his.

"Brian was down a while ago," she said. "He wants to do one of his Saturday breakfasts. For the kids, before he has to run to the airport. He went out to get some provisions. We're a little sparse around here. It's been a bit of a week."

"Yea … I kinda got that impression," Jack allowed, still holding at his bicep.

Olivia pointed behind her. "Coffee," she offered – but she made no move to pour him a cup. It was clear that if he wanted it, he was supposed to help himself.

But he supposed that's the way it should kind of be. Like that would've been the way it was before. When things were normal. That this was his house too. His family. He wasn't here as a guest or on holiday. Olivia wasn't his servant or waiter. It was self-serve. Do what you want – within the rules she kept. And she kind of kept a lot. She always had. That was kind of part of the deal too.

But it all just felt weird now. Like he was a guest or a stranger. It didn't quite feel like home anymore even if they still felt like his family. And they did. But it was different. It was strained and hard and awkward.

And it was taking a lot to not get up off that stool and runaway. He could easily make an excuse. He could say he was scheduled to work at Gecko's. That he had a grom class he was supposed to be teaching. Or he had to help with stocking shelves before the start of Black Friday sales and holiday influx into the story. Or that Gecko had a bunch of orders come in in some sort of pre-Black Friday sale and he needed him to work as a rigger in the back of the shop putting together some custom decks.

He could say he was behind on all the desk jockey, paperwork crap of his 'real' job. That there were deadlines coming up. Or that he'd promised he'd help Renee with something. Or even just that they had plans.

But he also knew that Olivia wouldn't really believe him – even if she didn't say much of anything about it. She'd nod and he'd get an 'OK'. Because in a way he sort of knew that he'd likely been pretty far down on the list of people she called last night. He knew he was anymore on even an average night. And Jack knew that was his fault too. And she knew she must've been pretty desperate to call him. And maybe even desperate-er to agree to Renee filling in for him until he could get there.

That was the thing, though. He could tell something was up and she was kind of overwhelmed. And it was a bit of an opening. To try to maybe start fixing this. And he'd tried last night. It hadn't been a complete disaster. Maybe it'd been the start of the mending. But Jack also knew if he just basically bailed that morning it would be like picking at the barely starting to heal wound.

He needed to sit there and eat it for the moment. So he slid off the stool and went over to get a coffee.

Jack had to open a couple cupboards. He didn't think he'd forgotten where the mugs were. So he thought it was more likely they'd rearranged the kitchen in some way for some reason. But he found a cup and poured himself some brew. Maybe the caffeine would somehow mellow him. Or maybe he should look in the cupboards more and actually see if Mom had any of her tea around. That would likely work better. But he didn't think going through every cupboard in the kitchen would win him any points. Actually, it'd probably kind of drive home how … fucked he'd let things get. Same space but different. Changes that happened and he didn't even see. And he should've.

"When's his flight?" Jack asked quietly. It was kind of a tester question. To see if she'd talk to him … about anything. Or maybe she just wanted him to go too. Not rock the boat or whatever.

"Not until this afternoon," Olivia said. "But we've got a busy day – a lot we need to get done this weekend. We're trying to get a bit of an early start."

"Yea, I'd say," Jack mumbled as he rounded back to the stool. It sounded like a hint – or a warning. But again she didn't say more. So he took it at face value. He tried to make himself do that anyway. "I thought I heard you guys come in at like just before two."

Olivia just hummed some acknowledgement at that. She still had the warm cup planted against her one cheekbone while she read through Jamin's homework. Like she was coming down with a cold or something? Maybe that's why she looked kind of more exhausted and paler than he remembered. Or at least than the way he thought of her.

"John's doing better?" Jack ventured. Another tester. It was like the right question. It was the point. Why he'd come over. Like … the Captain was in damage control with that too. It meant things were bad. And even if Jack wasn't close to Munch – he wasn't even sure how much he liked Munch – he got that to the kids and Mom and Brian the guy was family. And that had to count for something. He needed that to count for something. He needed to prove that it basically mattered and counted to him too. Because he was kind of in the same boat. Family but not family but needed family.

Olivia's head bobbed a bit and she let the coffee mug come down to the counter. She rubbed at her eyebrow a bit and looked at him.

"He's home," she allowed. "Don was staying with him last night. We might go over and see if we can talk some sense to him a bit later."

Jack processed that. Or he tried to. "Meaning?"

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow again. But then gestured at the floor – past the floor and into the garden unit of the house. And Jack stared at the tiling in the kitchen as he really processed the meaning of that.

"Wouldn't he be more comfortable at home?" Jack said.

"I think we're getting beyond that," she said.

And he stared at her. And the starkness of that reality.

"Sort of thought I heard you guys talking for a bit," he said carefully. "That you sounded kind of upset …"

It was more than they sounded upset. It was that he was pretty sure they sounded emotional.

Jack had seen Olivia cry a couple times over the years. Or like at least get watery-eyed and clearly pretty emotional. Happy tears and like … heartbroken ones. Though, she always kind of reeled it in before it was like a sobbing mess or something. But you could still hear it in her voice. And he was pretty sure he'd heard that tone downstairs in their murmured talking after they'd come in the door.

He couldn't really make out what either of them were saying. Some words here and there. He could make out Brian's timber more. Not the words. Just the tone of it. The vibration. And the tone seemed off.

Jack hadn't seen Brian cry before. He'd seen him … scared. Like genuinely scared. When Mom was … kidnapped. And … whatever else happened or whatever else they thought or knew was happening. But didn't talk about then and Olivia didn't talk to him about now. Neither did Brian. Sometimes it seemed like they didn't really talk about it all. Or if they did it was dumbed down conversations for the kids about 'the bad man who took Mommy who went to jail and who was dead now so they were all safe.' And most of that just seemed like more than an over-simplification. It seemed like a lie. One that Jack sometimes resented.

Brian being scared then had been telling. But even then it hadn't been like he'd been teary. That was almost more scary. Knowing that Brian was scared? Or that he hadn't cried? And that he hadn't really let any of them cry either. He'd just been like … 'They're going to find your Mom' and that 'Your mom is a fighter and she's a survivor. She's going to be fine.' But that was an over-simplification too. Because the Mom that had got to come home wasn't really Mom anymore. And she really hadn't been fine. Not for a long time. Jack didn't think even now. And for those days she was gone and then in those weeks and months when Mom did come home but wasn't really Olivia anymore like the way he remembered – it'd been Brian who kinda held them together or pulled them through. But he'd had this look on his face then. All the time. And this tone.

And the voice he'd heard downstairs in the early morning hours sounded bordering on that. They both had. Numb? Scared? Aching? Just trying to hold it together?

Mom just gave him this thin, weak smile now though. Or maybe it was more like a frown.

"Is Brian OK with all it?" Jack asked instead. Because he thought he knew that answer. Because Jack had heard the tone.

And Olivia shrugged a little. "John's a good friend," she said quietly and like weaker than he'd expect out of Mom. "To both of us. He's about the closest Brian's had to a father-figure. He's just not quite ready to lose that yet."

"Yea. Who ever is?" Jack posed evenly. Because he really didn't think you could be or would be. Not from his own losses. Not from watching other people try to cope with theirs. Not from things he'd heard and seen.

It didn't matter who – or what – your Dad was. It didn't matter if he wasn't really your dad. If he was just a father figure. It was like they weren't supposed to go before you. Even though nature dictated they kind of were. But it was always these unfinished conversations and unresolved issues and things still left to prove. And just not being left alone. Not having that anchor or supporter or cheer leader or protector. Them just being gone?

It seemed like a cruel way for nature to work. It didn't seem like it made a man out of you by taking those people away from your life. It just sort of left you this empty shell.

Jack had been there. Sometimes he still felt like he was there. Lately. But maybe that's why he was there that morning. Not running away. He was trying to fix that. To figure it out. To have some time again so he wasn't that shell. Wasn't alone and lost at sea. Even if it meant having to listen to Mom and Brian telling him he was an adult and a grown-up and a man – and to start acting like one. At least then … as much as he hated them saying that shit … then at least, they were there. He wasn't alone. Maybe he still had some kind of anchor or supporters or cheer leaders or protectors even if they were as annoying as fuck. As hypocritical was fuck. And just as broken as him.

But that weak, thin-lipped look from Mom stayed on him. Her hand reached and cupped over his. Like she understood. She knew what he meant and how it felt.

But she didn't too.

And Jack found himself staring at it. Her hand there on his. Almost confused.

And he realized it'd been … a long time since Mom had touched him. Since he'd let Olivia touch him or hug him. Maybe he hadn't realized he needed that. Sometimes. Or that he even missed it. It felt kind of foreign and strange in that moment. But it felt warm. It felt nice.

"Sorry we woke you," she said.

He exhaled a bit and found her eyes. And her hand snaked off of his and back to her coffee cup. He sort of wished it hadn't.

"Sorry that the kids woke up," he said. "I thought we got them to sleep OK. But pretty much I heard Jamin's feet hit the floor basically as soon as your bedroom door closed."

Olivia allowed a bit more of a smile at that. It seemed realer. Happier. But she got like that when they talked about the kids. It kind of seemed. Maybe it always seemed – as long as he knew her. Ben and Emmy? It got smiles out of her. It was when his bullshit or the bullshit of the law and custody and their biological parents and guardianship got dragged into the discussion around them that she frowned. She didn't frown about them. They made her happy. Jack knew that. He saw it.

But she still shrugged.

"He do that a lot?" Jack asked.

And Olivia shrugged again.

"He's getting kind of old for that …," Jack said.

And she took a pronounced inhale. "Well, Benji's dealing with a lot lately, Jack. We've seen some regression in him."

Jack just examined her. He measured the comment. He tried to put it in context. What he knew and what he'd seen out of his nephew the night before.

"What's that mean?"

And Mom shook her head and let the coffee cup hover near her mouth again before taking a small sip between the steam.

"That sometimes I have my eleven-year-old crawling into my bed again because he can't sleep," she nodded gently at him. "That he plays shy and mute a lot again around strangers."

And he just stared.

"He was feeling pretty anxious about the parent-teacher interview," Olivia said.

"Why?" Jack asked.

She shrugged. "Because he's gone through hell with bullying. Because he's been batted around the system with his dyslexia. Because he's missing school with his illness. Because he doesn't feel normal or smart or like he fits in, Jack. And he feels like his little sister is smarter than him and is always getting raving reviews from her teacher and glowing report cards. And she was sure to rub his nose in it ahead of us heading in to his meeting."

"Emily can be such a pain in the ass …," Jack muttered.

Olivia shrugged. "She's precocious. She's an early reader. She's inquisitive. And she's maybe a little too smart – but too naïve – for her own good. Neither of them quite understand that. So I think Benji just wanted to make sure we weren't mad at him. That we hadn't heard anything we didn't want to hear."

"Did you?" jack asked.

Mom shook her head. "We heard we got a smart, kind, talented but somewhat shy little boy that they're working at helping come out of his shell."

"So all good things?" he clarified because that answer sounded more like a talking point than anything.

She nodded a bit. "He's doing well," was all he got, though. And he stared at her. "He's still on the IEP, Jack. It's a different kind of meeting. But he's doing well. His teacher is happy. We aren't dealing with bullying yet at this school. He's making friends. He has subjects he's showing interest in and that he's shining in."

"Like?"

She stared at him. There was some annoyance in the look. Like she was pissed off he had to ask. And maybe he didn't. But maybe he did. And maybe he just wanted to hear her say it.

"He's a talented artist. He's a skilled athlete. He loves stories and being read to. He has good oral comprehension. He's curious. He really likes all the STEM lessons and he retains and applies knowledge in his own way. So we're making progress."

She said it so flatly and matter-of-factly. Jack wasn't sure how he felt about that. But he nodded. "That's good. I just doubt that having to tell him that at like two in the morning meant you got much sleep."

And it got another shrug out of Mom. "I don't think either of us minded some Little Fox cuddles after the kind of week – day, night – we'd had."

"Yea, but Em's in there too this morning?"

Olivia nodded a bit. "She's Benji's Ducky even when her brown-nosing has her being a bit of a little shit," she said.

Jack allowed an amused smile at that. Maybe it was good to know that Mom didn't really pull any punches about any of them. She loved them – but they annoyed her and pissed her off too. And she thought all of them could do better.

"They both haven't seen Daddy much the past couple weeks. Brian's slammed. And they know he's getting on a plane today," Olivia provided. "They just are missing him and wanted time with him. It's fine. We're used to the kids ending up in our bed. And we're used to running on a few hours sleep."

Jack looked at her but before he said anything she shook her head.

"I don't need your commentary on Brian today, Jack," she warned firmly. "He's my husband. He's their Daddy. He's been tied up at work – the same as I get sometimes. And we've missed him. I don't care how you feel about that."

Jack's face fell a bit. "I was just going to say that it's kind of weird they're getting into bed with you. I mean, they're six and eleven."

And Olivia gave a slow exhale and went back to looking at Jamin's project again. "They didn't arrive on our doorstep with instruction manuals," she said flatly. "We just try to do the best we can."

Jack tried to figure out if he should say more or press it farther. Or what the point even was. He supposed it wasn't really his business. And it didn't really affect him. It just seemed weird. It was just … he was trying to gauge where things were at in this house. With this family. His family. That felt so strange and different than the last time he'd been there. But he hadn't really been there – not really – for months.

"Did you sleep?" Olivia asked – not looking at him.

"Yea," he allowed, trying to let it pass like water off his back. He stretched a little. "That new couch is nice. When did you get that?"

She made some sound of measured consideration. "September?" she said and gave him a glance. "The room's getting more use now. And Janet has just stayed over here a lot this fall. When we've needed the help. It's more comfortable for the kids. Easier – especially with Benji."

Jack weighed that comment too – and what realities it might carry. It was pointed without her saying much. But that was Mom.

"You figured out how to get it pulled out OK?" she asked flatly.

"Yea," he allowed. "It's a neat design."

"It's IKEA," she said even more flatly. "Spending the big bucks …"

Jack smiled at that and stared at the counter while she flipped through Jamin's project some more. She was clearly reading every page. She seemed really engaged with it.

"It sounds like our family restaurant would be a tapas lounge," Olivia said and gave Jack glance and a smile.

He allowed an amused noise. "Yea. That sounds about right with Jamin, though, right?"

"It does," she agreed. "Thank you for getting him to work on this last night. It's a big help. It will save us a lot of time and conflicts this weekend."

"Yea. That was all Renee," Jack said.

"Mmm …," Olivia allowed and gave him another thin smile. There was some kind of comment behind it too. But again she didn't say anything beyond, "She's slept through?"

Jack shook his head a bit and stared at the counter, running his finger along the cool, smooth surface. "She left a while after we thought the kids were asleep."

Olivia looked at him. There was disapproval. Maybe some concern. "Alone? In the dark? All the way back into Manhattan?"

Jack sighed and gave a little shrug.

"She didn't – shouldn't – have to do that," Mom shook her head.

"I know how you feel about her sleeping over here," Jack said.

Mom's eyes shot to him and shot daggers. "You know last night was a very different circumstance."

And Jack shrugged. "OK. But I know how you feel about us being in a relationship."

And she shook her head at him and pulled at her chin. "That is not what I said. And I'm not doing this this morning, Jack." There was warning to it. Firm and stern.

So Jack only shrugged and went back to smoothing his index finger along the countertop. He felt Mom staring – maybe glaring – at him. But he avoided looking. Sometimes her eyes said more than she ever said. They could be scary too.

"She liked helping," Jack said quietly. "With the kids and with homework. And she had stuff to do today anyway with the board she's on. For battered women and their kids. Food drive and sorting stuff ahead of Thanksgiving. So it's all good. It wasn't a big deal."

"Did you get her in an Uber?" Olivia put to him directly.

He caught her eyes. "Would you like if Brian was telling you how to take care of yourself and move around the city at night?" he put to her plainly.

She sighed at him and shook her head and rubbed at her eyebrow again.

"She took an Uber," Jack said directly. "But she ordered it herself. And she doesn't like when I … whatever … tell her what to do or how to take care of herself. She knows how to take care of herself."

Olivia found his eyes. "There's being taken care of and being cared for, Jack. They're different."

He shrugged a little and went back to staring at his finger on the counter. "You said we weren't doing this this morning. I'm cool with that."

He heard the annoyed, frustrated exhale coming out of Olivia's chest. He felt it expel in his general direction.

"Homework helper and cookie baker …" she muttered. "She deserves to be cared for and is worth stepping up to be the one taking care …"

Jack found her eyes. They just stayed connected with his. For a long beat. It was hard to keep looking in her eyes.

"I know," he said.

Olivia nodded. "So are you going to tell me about Poughkeepsie?"

Jack shrugged. "I don't know. Should we do that today?"

He felt her eyeing the top of his head. "Renee said it was a job interview? That you're being head-hunted?"

Jack exhaled some of his own frustration and found her eyes. He tried to express that without words as much as she managed to express all kinds of Mom stuff with just a look. But he didn't think he was as good at it as her. At all.

"You think that's a good idea?" Olivia put to him. "Sweetheart, you've only been at this job for all of six months. You don't want future employers to see your resume bouncing all over the place."

He huffed out more annoyance. "I hate my job, Mom," he pressed at her. And he saw her straighten – maybe stiffen – just a bit. But he thought maybe it was because he said 'mom'. Maybe he hadn't called her that in a while.

Jack shook his head hard and looked at the patterns in the granite countertop again. Tracing his fingers around and around the slouches and dots and specks.

"It's all just paperwork and bureaucratic forms and red tape and writing out reports and data entry from public consultants and surveys. It's not what I did fucking seven years of school for."

"Jack, it's your first job. It's an entry-position," she said.

He found her eyes. "You know why I like Funky's and doing the Saturday Skate School stuff?"

"Because you like skating," she said.

He flared his nostrils. "Yea. But it's because it's hands-on, Mom. I get to get in the workshop. I get to customize decks. I get to rig up rails and ramps for the kids. Set up courses. Figure out lines for different age groups and abilities. I get to design. I get to do shit with my hands. Work with tools. See people actually using – enjoying, excelling – on stuff I create."

"You had skatepark companies approach you before you finished school, Jack," she said. "You said you weren't interested."

"Yea. Because I didn't know how it was going to be in the fucking office in some fucking prestige firm that just sells out to the deepest pockets and submits some bids here and there like it's some kind of pro bono charity work when it comes to doing good in the community. Sitting on my fucking ass or running off my ass to get some asshole pumpkin spice lattes and tofu fries whatever the fuck that is."

She allowed him a thin smile. And he shrugged rubbing his finger against the counter.

"And I didn't think I was ready to leave New York," he muttered.

"And you are now?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe the city but not the state. Poughkeepsie's not that far."

"It's far enough," she said.

Jack sighed. "OK. Yea. But it's also not that far. And this company is doing such cool shit, Mom. And they approached me. I didn't approach them. And they found me because of some of the skate internships I've done. And the stuff at Art Center this summer. The fluidity of motion design. Interactive spaces. Play. They like my shit. And it's just their fabrication and workshop that's up the Hudson. They've got a studio and offices and industrial space in Queens. So, you know … it's like … the best of all worlds. Like a little bit of everything."

"That's not usually how life works, Jack," she said. "It sounds like a puppy dog sell. Which might've been how you got into a firm you're not enjoying in the first place. You're hearing and seeing what you want to – not the whole picture."

He let out a long sigh and stared at the counter. Mom stared at him. Again. Too.

"What's the firm?" she asked.

"Parkitects," he muttered.

"Parkitects?" she repeated.

"Yea …" He knew she was clocking that and filing it away. She'd be Googling them. And who knew what else.

"So urban parks?" she asked.

He shrugged a little. "More like playspaces that are meant to be low-maintenance and integrated with natural environments. Turn-key." And he could tell she was still looking at him. He sighed and found her eyes. "They do like new wave parks. Playgrounds. Splashpads. They did the play features and interactive spaces on Governor's Island."

That got some recognition out of her. He saw that flick on her face. "That's impressive," she allowed.

"You should look at their site," he said. "Some of their projects are just …" he shook his head. "Fucking capital A – Aces."

She allowed him a small smile. "What's Renee think?" she asked.

Jack exhaled. And then he shrugged. "I don't know. It just kind of came up out of nowhere and I just went for the grand tour yesterday. We haven't talked about it too much yet."

Olivia made a sound of acknowledgement.

But Jack found her eyes again. "I'd get to design and build. It's a young company. Young staff. They seemed … pretty cool."

"A lot to think about," she put flatly.

"Yea …," Jack acknowledged and went back to looking at the counter. "Renee's been thinking that she doesn't want to do her gig forever either. There's lots of colleges around Poughkeepsie. We saw a listing that'd be … like advocate and social worker type stuff at one of them. She thinks she could see herself maybe doing something like that. You know, it's kind of how – why – she got her start."

"And she could see herself doing it in Poughkeepsie? With you?"

Jack sighed and looked at her. "I don't know. And it's more like … I'd probably be in Flushing and then up in Poughkeepsie sometimes."

"So that doesn't really work for a job at one of the colleges up there," Olivia said.

"Yea, well, the whole Renee part of any of this is probably more complicated than the job part …," Jack muttered.

"Ah …," Olivia said.

He just sighed and gazed at her. But maybe she was going to drop it. Even though Jack wasn't sure if he wanted her to. It was like … sometimes he felt like he had so much he wanted to ask her about … relationship stuff and being in a relationship with … someone who'd been through something like Renee. And just being like mid-20s and in a relationship and working a job and having a life and affording living in New York. But sometimes it felt like he wasn't supposed to talk to her about any of it. And sometimes – a lot of the time – he didn't want to talk to her about any of it.

But it didn't even matter right then because she was back to looking at the family restaurant menu project thing of Jamin's. Renee's white trash peanut butter cookie recipe with diary-free wannabe M&M candies that cost more than all the other ingredients in multiple batches combined taking front and center on the page she was staring at.

"We managed to put some of the cookies away for the weekend or to take over to John or whatever," Jack said. "But Ben and Em packed away like Renee's version of a bakers' dozen before we really got the lid on the Tupperware."

"Hmm," Olivia nodded, flipping through to the last page of the book and then flipping it over to stare at the assignment project sheet that they hadn't really got to. "Maybe that explains why they were actually up all night. Too much sugar before bed."

Jack smile thinly and stared at the paper she was reading upside down. "We didn't do that last part," he told her. "The showcase ingredient? We didn't really get it and he wasn't really talking to me or explaining it to well to her."

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow while she read it over again. "It's OK," she said. "It's for the class cookbook and the school's cultural potluck. We've talked about what he wants to do before."

"What's he want to do?" Jack asked.

"Ah, well that depends on the day," Olivia said and allowed him a thin smile, finally reaching and setting the homework aside for the moment. "He can't decide if we are British, Irish or American."

Jack stared at her. "I think … all three? Sorta?"

"Sort of," Olivia shrugged. "Somewhere in the lineage. Maybe. But at this point I think we'll be going with us being as simple and humble as some good old American apple pie."

"So … his showcase ingredient is … apple pie?"

"Apples," Olivia shrugged. "They'll be easy to write a couple paragraphs about. And easy to throw together a batch of apple crisp for the potluck. If we even go."

"Why wouldn't you go?"

She rubbed at her eyebrow again and looked at him. Like he should've known the answer to that – but he didn't. And she was somehow surprised. But not.

"He'll be having a spinal tap next week and then he's slated to have his immunoglobulin treatment," she provided. "He's going to be out of commission for a few days."

Jack processed that. "But Brian's away …?"

"He is," Olivia agreed.

"Well … him being away right before Thanksgiving is kind of stupid and risky enough. And now he's going to be away for this? You guys have been talking about this treatment for months."

"I know," Olivia said with a firmer tone. "And Brian's working at trying to reschedule this – and keeping it to a day or two so he's back. It's why he's leaving today. But, 1) Everyone goes into tizzy mode just before the holidays in trying to get things done and filed and through. And, 2) It's some of these filings – and the chain of custody – are cross jurisdictional. It's not a holiday weekend in Canada."

Jack gaped. "Wait? What? He's going to Canada? I thought it was like DC or something?"

Olivia gave her head a little shake. "They're all going up there. Get it looked over and pushed through all at the same time. Trying to avoid any mistakes or hiccups they have to backtrack through."

"It can't wait until after Thanksgiving?" Jack said. "And Jamin's treatment? And what's going on with Munch?"

Olivia shrugged. "We don't get a whole lot of say in scheduling, Jack. It is what it is."

He just stared at her unsure of what to say. He could argue some kind of point. But he just didn't think there'd be a point. Like what was the point to be made? Beyond that this was shit-tactular timing. That Brian likely wasn't going to be back. Not for Ben's treatment and maybe not even for Thanksgiving. And that sucked ass.

He didn't get to say anything, though. Even if he thought he might want to. Because Jamin kinda stumbled down the stairs and then up to his Mom. He wrapped his arms around her mid-section and buried his cheek against her side – being sure to position his face so he didn't have to look at Jack.

Olivia stroked at his hair a bit. But she saw the body language from Jamin too. "What's Dad say, Benj …" she whispered down at him.

"Be the bigger man …" Jack heard his nephew mutter off in the opposite direction.

"So …," Olivia said.

It hung there but then Jamin turned his head and generally looked in Jack's direction. But it was more like he was looking past him – off into the sitting space of the open-concept living room.

"Hey, mornin' Jamin," he said.

Ben just made this little sound. Definitely wasn't a morning. But it was kind of an improvement on the utter lack of words that he'd gotten out of the kid the night before. At least this was like a syllable. Maybe.

"I think you're still tired, Little Fox. Maybe you should go try to sleep a little bit more," Olivia said.

"Where's Dad?" Jamin asked.

"He went out to get some groceries," Olivia said. "But I think maybe he had to go a bit farther afield than he thought looking for Toads in a Hole ingredients at five o'clock in the morning."

Ben's eyes looked up at her. "Toads?" he actually smiled.

She nodded and brushed at his tuffs of short, balding, thin, fine hair that was a matted, nest of bedhead. "Toads," she agreed. "He wants us to have a big breakfast together before we have to drive him to the airport."

Ben made a little sound. "But he hasta drive me to get Taylor a present and to Nerf Wars."

Olivia shook her head a bit. "We're going to take Daddy to the airport and then we'll drop you off at the party."

"But Taylor said Dad could stay and play too. So our team was bigger," Ben whined a little.

Olivia brushed at Ben's hairline. Jack sometimes wondered what it'd feel – what it would've felt like – to have a Mom that cared about you like that and took care of you when you were little.

"Well, I told you, Benj, Ducky and I can come in if you want, but—"

"Not Emmy," he moaned.

"Mom is a much better shot than Brian," Jack interjected.

It got an amused sound out of Olivia but it got some real stink-eye out of Jamin. So Jack sat back a bit on the stool.

"Well, I can't just leave Emmy locked in the car, Benj," Olivia said.

"What about his present? I don't even have anything," Ben whined. "I'm not bringing anyone for the team and I don't have a Nerf gun since you don't like guns at home and I don't even have a present for him."

"I think Taylor might really like if you made him one of your comics as a card," Olivia said. "And we can stop and pick up a gift card to go in it on the way to the party."

Ben just looked up at her like that was the dumbest idea ever. But even though Jack hadn't exactly seen him much he could tell the kid was tired and there was something about the way he was holding himself too it kind of looked like there was a pain issue involved.

"Mom, that's kind of lame especially when I'm the only one invited …"

"Mmm," Olivia acknowledged. "Well, Benji, you said last night you didn't know if you wanted to go and we've—"

"I can't take him," Jack interjected and Olivia looked at him. But he looked at Jamin. "I can take you out to find something for him," he offered. "I can go be on your team if you want too …"

"Wow …," Olivia said keeping Jack's eyes for a long beat as she did mouth it. There was some surprise but there was a bigger warning there. One that said not to fuck this up. She looked down at Ben. "That's pretty nice of Peedg. What do you think, Benj?"

But Ben just stared at him. And Jack felt even more weighed than all the looks that Olivia had given him so far that morning.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**Readership is appreciated. Reviews, comments and feedback are motivational and usually help with some thought, ideas and direction that the story might take. **


	28. Llama Spit

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

"Jesus," Jack muttered as he turned the Nerf Rival blaster box around in his hand – staring at the toy gun and its very real price tag.

He saw Jamin give him a glance. The kid was pretty transfixed by the toys. Considering the size of this basically inner-city, right downtown, off the subway line Target they'd dedicated a pretty substantial amount of space to Nerf weaponry. Like the entire row and shelf upon shelf of Nerf.

"Nerf has changed a lot since I was a kid," he commented at his nephew.

The thing might as well been an airsoft gun – complete with the spherical pellets. But pulled right out a Halo battle. Truth was he probably would've loved this shit when he was about Jamin's age.

But Nerf didn't look anything like this like 20 years ago. Fuck. That made him feel old. It was pretty much orange and blue plastic crap with foam darts. This was … sophisticated.

Or maybe it was more like kids Jack's age hadn't let go of Nerf yet. Knew for a fact there were Nerf battle leagues around the city. Had been one at City. There was a group that played in Central Park almost every weekend. There were whole arenas dedicated to this shit – above and beyond the usual laser tag and paint ball and airsoft fields and courses. Not to mention the fucking archery and axe throwing that was popping all over. Especially Brooklyn. Fucking Brooklyn.

Jack wanted to say that some of it was just city living. That like apparently kids these days were a lot more sophisticated. He knew that. He saw shit that Ben and Emmy had. Shit they got up to in school. Just stuff that Olivia and Brian did with them.

He'd spent a lot of years trying to convince himself that that was just city living too. Completely different upbringing than what he had.

But maybe not so much. Maybe it was more like he was on the wrong side of 20 and was getting really fucking old. Like fewer years to 30 than he had to 20 come a month from now. That was a fucking scary thought.

But Jamin just looked at him for a beat. Like it was a perfect opportunity for the kid to spout some comment at him. Like likely some Olivia-type comment. Sarcasm and sass and wit and putdown all wrapped into one. Jamin seemed to have a lot of those Olivia-type quips.

Or he used to. But this time – just like last night and so far since they'd left the house – he just went back to looking at the blasters. No comment. No nothing.

Jack sighed a little internally and put the box back on the shelf. "These are pretty expensive, Jammer," he said.

"Stop calling me that," Ben nearly whispered.

Jack stopped. Looked at him. That kind of hurt. But he just mutely allowed, "OK." He didn't ask if he wasn't allowed to call him 'Jamin' anymore either. Because being told he wasn't would hurt even more. A real knife to the heart. But supposed he brought it on himself. And really what could he expect. The kid was ten … eleven. Fuck … eleven. He couldn't have expected his nephew would let him call him 'Jammer' his whole life. But 'Jamin'? That'd be OK? Right? Because 'Ben' just never felt right even when he heard Brian and Alex – and even Jamin himself – use it. And 'Benji' just felt like it belonged to other people. To Olivia. Though maybe she wouldn't be allowed to use it too much longer either. But maybe it was different when it was your mom. Olivia wasn't even technically his mom and she was still about the only person in the world that he let call him 'John Paul'.

Jamin was about the only person in the world he let call him 'Peedg' too. He wondered if that would be stopping soon now too. He wondered if it'd already stopped but he just hadn't noticed. He'd missed it. Like a lot of things. He'd let that slip away too maybe?

"I wasn't gonna pick that one anyway," Ben added – more vocally. It sounded like a bigger tell off.

"Yea, well, they're all kinda of expensive, dude," Jack said. Trying again to be all water-off-the-back about all of this. "And I'm pretty sure this place is likely going to have blasters for everyone to use."

He pulled out his phone again – technically to look up the spot this non-party party thing was supposed to be. It was one of these arena plays. Or open 'gyms' or something. He'd had to look up the address. Ended up looking at the site – and the insanity of the prices of this place. He was sure it'd said there were blasters there. If they weren't provided or included in the non-party party or 'family' or 'team' package this kid's family had dropped a wad on, Jack was pretty sure they could rent them. Even though that would suck.

It definitely wouldn't be cheap either. But it would still probably be cheaper than buying a couple of these things. Though supposed if it was comparable costs at least buying them they'd have invested in something they'd have in their possession for more than like 40 minutes.

He figured he'd have to show Ben all the evidence to prove any of that to him, though. Because it sure didn't seem like Jamin was taking much of anything he said at face value these days.

Jack didn't preach gospel. Now if Brian was there and told the kid that factoid, it'd be a different story. And if Olivia said it then it'd basically just be a Commandment that Thou Shall Not Break.

But he wasn't Brian and he wasn't Olivia. Right now he didn't know what he was to Ben. Though the kid was doing his best to make it pretty clear he wasn't much.

That was hard.

"I have money," Jamin mumbled at him. "Allowance."

Jack made a listening sound. True. Allowance. But he was kind of distracted.

He'd only gotten so far in looking up this shit because there'd been a text from Renee. And he was shooting one back at her. Letting her know what a walking disaster the day had been so far. But supposed he was also letting her know he was trying. And she'd appreciate that. And she'd likely keep him accountable. To push through this fucking day. And days ahead. To maybe get a 'normal' Thanksgiving and holiday season out of his family. Though, it was pretty much a given that wasn't going to happen at this point. In any way. And not just because of the fuck-up he'd had with those relationships. Not if John was like moving toward his death bed and Mom and Brian were thinking of dragging him kicking and screaming into their in-house hospice. Which kind of seemed like a shit idea. Not if the Captain was all distracted by that too – and supposed to be at Eileen's family's this go-around anyway. When Cragen was pretty much the only one on his side even when he wasn't and pretty much the only one who ragged on him without fucking lecturing him like some kind of child. Not when Alex wasn't going to be there – because she was a whole fucking lot easier to talk to than Mom these days even if she was even more direct than Mom about everything. At least Trevor was on his side when he went over to that house. Mom and Brian were like a fucking tag-team of proclaiming his lameness. Not when Renee wanted to come and Ben couldn't deal with that. And definitely not if Ben was having needles jammed into his back and some new drug pumped into his veins. And if Brian didn't even make it back in time.

Fuck today being a disaster. Jack was pretty fucking sure Thursday was going to be a disaster too. And that wasn't the way to kick off the holiday season. It sounded like it was going to be a pretty shitty way to ring out 2019. Definitely be one for the history books. Just not in a good way.

"You really want to be spending your cash on some plastic gun that your Mom won't likely even let you have in the house after you get home?" Jack said as he texted.

Jamin gave him a glance. "You're on your phone more than Mom or Dad," he said pointedly.

Jack gave him a look.

"And they have important jobs," Jamin added.

That time it definitely had the Olivia tell-off tone. But somehow hearing that out of the kid stung way more than any kind of 'grow up' comments that Olivia or Brian lobbed his way.

Jack just kept the kid's eyes, though. Because what the fuck could he say? Go off on the kid and tell him off right back? That'd just fuck things up more.

And it wasn't like Jamin was wrong. His job definitely didn't feel important. And Jack knew full-fucking-well that his job would never resemble 'important' when compared against what Mom did or what Brian did or what Renee did. He'd always be a bit of the joke in the family. The smart guy with the fancy degree and the splashing certification and licensing. The architect.

But what the fuck did that count for anything? What good was it doing? Compared to what the rest of the people in his life did. Compared to fucking aspirations that his little nephew had. Even shit that Emmy said she wanted to be when she grew up. Like fuck marine biologist and biologist and scientist.

It all sounded a whole lot fucking more important than some guy who drew pictures of building. And floorplans. Fuck. He wasn't even doing that right now. He was doing fucking data entry and spread sheets and getting coffee. No wonder his quasi-kid brother thought he was a joke. He was pretty sure the rest of his family did too. They just said it in fucking nicer terms than an eleven-year-old.

But Jack just hit send. And put the thing in his pocket. "There. Done."

"You just draw lines. So you shouldn't always have to be on the line," Ben mumbled at him. Another zinger that was a stinger.

"Yea, well, I was trying to see if this place rented these things so you didn't need to drop dough on them here," Jack said. He tried to keep it even. Tried to keep any kind of comment about it that would get him in some pissing match with an eleven-year-old. He was pretty sure Ben would fucking win if they did anyway. They were kind of at that point. He just had to give it to the kid.

Ben gave him a glance. "Dad would let me get one," he said.

Jack exhaled a bit at that. "Yea, well, he ain't here, is he? And, I don't seriously buy Brian would be all 'go ahead and take your pick'. Or he letting you play the shoot-em ups on the PS now?"

That got some real stink eye. Clear no. But the kid also wasn't going to vocalize that.

"OK," Jack shrugged. "Well, whatever. But I really don't want to get in your Mom or Brian's shit books by bringing you home with a gun. So maybe you can spend your allowance on this some time when I'm not with you."

Jamin just pulled about the teeny-tiniest gun of the bunch off one of the hangers. Came with fucking two darts. Shaped like a fucking purple llama and only fired one fucking thing at a time.

"I'm getting this one," Ben said – holding it out at Jack like that was that.

Jack gave him a look. "Seriously?" He gestured at the rest of the blasters. "You're going to go to some Nerf battle arena that's going to have things like this in the hands of every other player and expect to last more than like ten seconds on the field? Money better spent putting the cash toward a rental, Kid."

Ben pulled the toy back to his body like he was going to clutch onto it and never let go. "It's for Taylor," he said so fucking matter-of-factly. Like Jack was a complete retard.

Jack sighed at him a bit. "Dude, if the kid is so into Nerf he's havng a Nerf party he's not going to want or need a one-and-done llama spitting out a dart."

"It's Fortnite," Ben pressed at him. "Taylor likes Fortnite."

Jack sighed at him a bit more.

OK. He got it. Sad truth. Ben was just trying to fit in. Jack got that. He knew that didn't work so well for the kid most of the time. And he got that too. He'd been there. Pretty much he'd always been there. He was still there. And he got this was like one of the first 'friends' that had been mentioned the kid had in a long time. Like probably since maybe Grade 1. The rest had all been more like 'teammates' and 'classmates'. People he sat next to or played some ball with. Not anyone that invited him to anything. Ever. And Jack got that hurt. It hurt Ben. He knew it hurt Olivia. He knew that this was technically the first party Ben had pretty much ever been invited to. For like a kid his age in his class. It was kind of a lot of pressure. Jamin was likely feeling it.

Jack reached and took the toy and examined it. He looked over at the hanger the kid had pulled it off of. "It's tweleve bucks, Jamin. Mom gave you ten."

"That's not the rule," Jamin pushed at him. "Mom always gives me ten for people's birthdays and Christmas. We use allowance if it costs more. I brought allowance!"

Jack sighed at him again and shrugged at the toy. "I mean, Ben," he gestured at some of the other blasters, "if you're gonna supplement, there's some better – bigger - blasters here for like fifteen. I can spot ya."

"I don't need your money," Ben said and grabbed the llama back. "I brought my own."

Jack exhaled and stared at the toy in his nephew's hands. Jamin was really admiring it. Like it was some kind of steal. And the most epic gift ever. Jack wasn't so sure.

"How do you know he doesn't have it already? If he's that big into Nerf and Fortnite?" he asked.

Ben just shrugged.

"They must have other Fortnite stuff here," Jack offered. "Like figures or blindboxes or tshirts or something."

"This is good," Jamin said. "He'll like this. And he can play with it at the battle royale."

Jack let out another little internal sigh. He weighed if he should just press Mom's suggestion of getting the kid a gift card. She'd said like iTunes (because she clearly didn't know that pretty much had ceased to exist and definitely wasn't really how kids Ben's age listened to music anymore.). But he figured there was likely some sort of gaming credits for Fortnite. He didn't know. He had pretty much aged out of that kind of multi-player online game thing. So maybe he'd grown-up a bit. Go tell that to Olivia and Brian. But even if Fortnite didn't have dedicated credits there'd be like Xbox and PlayStation cards. Steam. Something that wasn't a plastic llama head that he'd have to tell Mom was what they spent the ten bucks on and taken a toy gun to some eleven-year-old's birthday party. But maybe if she didn't want Ben getting that sort of shit – she should've made some time that week to be the one to take him shopping. So fuck it.

Jack shrugged. "Sure. Your cash. Your friend. You know best."

It almost got something that resembled a smile out of Jamin, who pushed by him and started to head for the cash. Jack followed along after him.

"So this Nerf battle going to be a Fortnite Battle Royale?" Jack asked.

He tried to take an interest. Tried to connect. And he again felt old because he wasn't sure he really knew what he was talking about. Beyond the existence of the game. It was pretty mainstream, pop culture. He wasn't that far gone and disengaged.

But he sure as fuck didn't feel like a part of that clan either. Not like his Halo days. With Pops. And just … trying to connect in his own way. Sometimes it was easier doing it in a virtual world of violence than the real-life shit show he lived in as a teen. Though, that contrast likely had a whole lot to do with why Olivia and Brian were like crazy strict about the video game stuff with the kids. Even though Brian was a bit of a gamer once upon a time.

But maybe their way was kind of smart. Looking back on it Jack wasn't sure his dad getting him the Xbox and letting him get into Halo and shit was the best thing going. Though, maybe it had been a bit of a saving grace in those years between when he was gone and when Jack had been able to escape.

But he still wasn't sure he'd be letting his kids – if he ever had any, which would be a complete accident because he had no intentions of bringing kids into a world as fucked up as this with someone as fucked up as him trying to figure out to how to be a father. He was still figuring out how to act like a functional human being. And Jack knew if you asked his family – and even Renee these days – they'd pretty much report he was failing at that. But, yeah. He didn't think he'd let his proverbial, hypothetical future kids go too far down the video game hole either. Or whatever video games were in the future. Shit just changed so fast. Life and the world. It was hard to keep up and keep a fucking grip on any of it.

"Taylor says it's like Capture the Flag," Ben said. Stated. Fact. That seemed to be how that kid talked a lot of the time. Fact and who had said the fact. Supporting statement. It was weird.

"What? Like Battle Royale is a CTF? Or the Nerf arena game's going to be CTF?" Jack asked.

And Ben looked at him. It was kind of like this stuttered panic. Like the realization he didn't know the answer to that and his lameness count just went up a couple notches. And Jack felt bad.

He reached and kind of shook at the top of Jamin's head. Fuck his hair was so short and just this blotching, thin, balding mess now. The meds and treatment Olivia and Brian were letting the docs do to the kid was really doing him in. Jack kind of hated it. But Jamin apparently really hated him touching him. Head got jerked right away. And he got given an even dirtier look.

"Hey, it's OK," Jack said. "It's probably like both. And what do I know? I've never played Fortnite either."

Jamin just kind of gaped at him. Like he'd been called out. Caught again. Didn't want to admit that he'd never played the game. Maybe terrified that this Taylor kid might realize he hadn't ever played either. But had to think the kid would know that already if they were really friends. Maybe this kid was just a wannabe too. His parents were just as strict about things? Sometimes the things you can't have just make you want them more. Maybe had to hope that's the way this was and how it went. Or maybe it'd be some kind of mess of friendship lost if Jamin made some kind of fool of himself. Jack wasn't sure he was equipped to like bail him out of that kind of situation. He didn't really excel at those kinds of human politics either.

"Do you at least know how to play Capture the Flag?" was what got barked at him, though. Didn't say it but pretty clear that question ended with a great big 'Dummy' attached to it.

Jack shrugged. "Sure. I've played. Not for a while. But like … when I was a kid. Your age prolly. School playground stuff. Gym class."

And that got another squint more. "Dad knows how to play good. He's basically a spy since he's undercover. He knows how to blend in and observe and find stuff out. He should be playing on our team."

It was another attempt at an insult. "Yea, well, good thing you're basically a spy to then, right?" Jack put back to him. Really, really had to make himself just put that back to him and not more. Because, again, fighting with an eleven-year-old? Was there a point? Ben just glared at him. "Jamin, c'mon, give me a break. I can run and shoot a dart gun. I've got your back."

"No you don't," Jamin pressed hard at him and pushed by him again and up to the cashier. Another point made. Yea. He got it. He'd sucked all fall. Or all summer. Or all always. Who knew. But Jamin wasn't making it easy to like make amends. Emmy showing up was enough. Jamin didn't give a shit. Got the impression Jamin would prefer if he wasn't there at all.

Jack walked up to the cash where Jamin had put down his Mom's tenner but was counting out change to make up the difference.

"Here, I've got it," Jack said, pushing the bill back at the kid and digging a piece of plastic out of his pocket to pay.

But Jamin nudged into him and made it clear he wasn't moving and wasn't relenting. "That's not the rule about birthday gifts," Ben said and just dumped his coins on the counter for the clerk to count.

Jack met eyes with the cashier. But he only shrugged and put the card back into his pocket and let the cashier count out the exact amount and brush the rest of the change back to Ben. The kid worked at getting it back into a fucking baggie he was carrying it around in.

They got out of the store and Jack looked at the kid. Ben had stopped and was working at getting the Target bag shoved into his bulking backpack he was carrying with him. He wasn't entirely sure what all Mom had put in it, though she'd spouted something off about Jamin's medications and a change of clothes? And extra water and some electrolyte mix? And copper compression athletic sleeves he was supposed to make sure Ben had one for when they were playing Nerf?

Jack did know the thing looked like it must weigh about twenty-five pounds – and like there definitely wasn't any room left in it even for the teeny-tiny purple llama. But Ben had still refused to let him carry it. Olivia had definitely been unimpressed with that when they were leaving.

"You want me to carry something?" Jack put to the kid now. But no answer. Just still trying to ram the thing into the bag. "You gonna want to stop somewhere to get a gift bag or some wrapping paper? Or you just handing it to the kid like that?"

Ben gave him a glance and then glanced at the Target bag. He shrugged. "If it's wrapped maybe his family doesn't open it until after cake like us. Then he won't be able to use it for battle."

"Ah …," Jack allowed. Whatever. He was pretty sure most eleven-year-olds wouldn't care about the wrapping anyway. Or maybe, again, this kid was like Jamin who still couldn't handle opening more than about two presents at any given time.

Jack glanced around the street a bit trying to orient himself. Fucking Brooklyn. He still didn't spend enough time over here to have any real sense of it. And the area they had to head to for this Nerf party was definitely part of town he hadn't been in before.

"So am I allowed to Google Maps this place or would that be me getting on line for no reason?" Jack put to Ben.

"I don't care," Ben mumbled, working at trying to get the zippers to shut on the bag.

Jack took that as permission and dug out his phone again to double-check the address and the route they should take. Olivia had said to just get an Uber if Ben was struggling – so he could save his energy for the party. But Jack wasn't sure if this was struggling beyond him struggling to get the fucking overflowing bag shut? Though, he supposed dragging that thing around – no matter how close they were or how direct of route they could manage – would likely amount to a struggle. So he sighed inwardly a bit again but opened the app to order up an Uber.

He nudged Ben and then went over to lean against the building to wait it out. The kid dragged the bag over.

"I wasn't blocking the sidewalk that much," he grumbled.

Jack shrugged. "I got us an Uber. It will be here in like …," he glanced at the phone. "Soon …"

"I can walk," Ben almost hissed at him.

"This place is in Williamsburg, Jamin. We aren't walking. I don't know the trains were well enough."

"It's the G," the kid stared – or maybe glared – at him.

"A car will be here in like two seconds," Jack pressed back at him.

"One, two," Jamin said and then gestured at the curb.

Jack just shook his head and glanced at the phone again. He didn't know what buddy was doing. Driving around a few blocks on the way? Picking up some extra passengers? Fuck. Did he select the wrong car?

Another text from Renee popped up. It made him smile. Fucking needed that with this bullshit. He went to respond but felt Jamin glaring at him again.

"I'll put it away when we get in the car," he mumbled.

Ben slouched against the wall but still kept on glaring at him. Jack tried to come up with some line that wouldn't be too obnoxious. Like Mom saying a bumblebee was going to land on that pout or that she wasn't going to spend time with a Chef Thundercloud. But Jack knew any of that shit coming out of his mouth wouldn't fly right now.

"Why's your girlfriend always bugging you so much?" Jamin mouthed off at him.

Jack made an amused sound and shot him a look. "She's not bugging me. She's just checking in. I was supposed to helping her at a thing tonight."

"Yeah. You're always just hanging out with her," Jamin said. "Even more than Christina. I liked her better. Girlfriends living in another city is way better."

"Maybe not so much when they're your girlfriend," Jack muttered but looked at the kid. "And I'm not always hanging out with Renee. That's not the way it is."

"Kinda seems like it," Ben muttered.

"Well, then it seems wrong," Jack said. "It's just … look, Jamin, I'm sorry I've kind of sucked lately. I've just been dealing with a lot of stuff with my job."

"Your stupid job."

"Yea, no arguing that one," Jack muttered. And it got a look from the kid. "I'm not lovin' the job situation either, Ben. It's just hard. It's my first real gig. But I'm trying to figure it out. Trying to make things better."

"Mom says you're still figuring out how to be a grown-up," Ben provided.

"Yea. That sounds like something she'd say …," Jack allowed. Unimpressed.

"Renee said it too," Ben added.

Jack gave him a look. "That so?"

The kid just shrugged. And Jack shook his head. Frustrated and annoyed and he didn't know what else.

"She said you think you're dealing with all these big hard things and you're basically scared."

"Well, I'm real glad the two of you had a heart-to-heart," Jack shook his head harder.

"She said she knows I had it bad as a little kid and that I've got hard stuff now too. And she gets it because she had hard stuff as a little kid and then as a bigger kid too. Way harder than the stuff you think is so hard that you're dealing with now," Ben said. "She thinks I should cut you some slack until you are less scared about being a grown-up. But I think that's a stupid thing to be scared of."

Jack rolled his head against the brick wall and gazed down the street – willing the Uber to get there. He didn't like Ben's rendition of what Renee had said. Wasn't sure he much liked that she thought that way. Though, supposed she'd said similar shit to him directly.

"I seriously do appreciate you cut her some slack last night," Jack said and gave his nephew a glance.

"Doesn't mean I like her or like you always being with her," Ben said.

"Yea, well, she kinda of likes you. And Emmy. And Mom," Jack said. "And she likes coming over. She just thinks it makes it all … strained for everyone if she does. And I don't like it getting all weird like that."

Ben looked at him and then looked away. "That's like you saying it's basically my fault you haven't been coming home ever," he said.

Jack exhaled some annoyance. "That's not what I said."

Ben shrugged though. "But it is anyway. Just like you don't come over 'cuz you can't handle I've got lupus."

"Yea. And who said that?" Jack pressed at him.

The kid found his eyes. "No one had to say it. I know it."

"That's not why I don't come home, Jamin."

"Then why don't you?" Ben pressed.

"I don't know," Jack said frustratedly. "It's not some simple grade school answer, Jamin."

"I'm in middle school."

He made another annoyed sound. "Whatever. It's complicated. There's lots of factors."

"That you're scared of. So you run away. Like always," Ben provided flatly.

Jack gazed at him. But the kid was just staring straight ahead. Watching the road or people on the sidewalk. Or nothing.

"It'd like to be home next week," Jack said. "Thanksgiving."

Ben shrugged. "But you won't."

"Yea, Ben, I'm telling you I'll be there. I'd like for Renee to be able to come too. If you're cool with that."

And the kid shrugged. "Maybe she can make you be cool about my stuff next week. At the hospital. So you don't just not show up 'cuz you can't handle some needles you don't even hafta to get."

"Jamin, I said I'll be there. I'll be there."

And the kid only shrugged again and then pressed off the wall. Jack looked. Ben had spotted the Uber pulling up to the curb.

"You better not run away on the field either," Ben said. "Taylor already knows my parents are super brave and good with guns. And would've been on our team all the way through battle. I don't want to tell him that you're too chicken to even take one shot."

And the kid had got into the car and slammed the door shut before Jack could respond. And he didn't know what he was supposed to say to that on the drive over to the arena. But he figured he better make some pretty epic fucking kills on the field. Though, he already felt like he'd pretty much just been slaughtered. By an eleven-year-old.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Reviews are appreciated. Next chapter will be a Liv POV.**


	29. Face Time

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

Olivia eased the door of her children's bedroom shut – closing it almost all the way but still leaving it open a crack. She cradled the phone against her ear as she started to move down the short hallway.

"Seems like you're in for a bit of a bedtime battle," Brian muttered into her ear.

She smiled weakly at that. The kids had insisted on FaceTiming with Daddy before bed. She could almost feel the slobber from where Emmy had bestowed a kiss against the camera. Not that talking to Daddy had done anything much to settle them. But she was still trying for a relatively normal lights-out. They had a busy day tomorrow – and a busy week ahead of them. But she could tell too that she might be in for a battle with getting them to shut their eyes despite the Saturday night TV time and warm baths and storytime and cuddles in their bedtime that was a whole lot more silliness coming out of Emmy than any signs that the nightly wind-down was working any kind of wonders.

"They're still wound up," she conceded. "But they've had a busy day. Hopefully they'll shut their eyes soon."

Brain just made a sound of acknowledgement. He sounded about as tired as her that night. But they'd both been burning the candle at both ends of a while. They were pretty much running on empty at that point and it didn't look like it was going to let up any time soon.

Olivia glanced into the kids' playroom. It was a diaster in there. Jack hadn't put the couch back up after sleeping on. Emmy and Jessie had been playing in there for part of the afternoon. Toys hadn't been put away either. Blankets Jack had used on the couch had been turned into a makeshift fort. And it just looked like a tornado had gone through the area.

She eased that door shut too. Not wanting to deal with it that night but also not wanting to see it. It'd drive her a little batty if she did. But there also just wasn't the point of tidying it up. The kids would just tear it apart again in the morning. And Jack was still sitting downstairs at that point and she didn't know if he was planning on staying over another night. She – maybe unfairly – hoped he wasn't. But she kind of suspected he was still kicking around because he wanted to talk to her. Olivia just wasn't sure she had it in her to have any kind of prolonged conversation and confrontation on Jack's demons and anxieties that evening.

"It sounded like he had fun," Brian allowed.

Olivia smiled a little at that as she let herself collapse onto the edge of their bed. She wasn't sure if she was staying up there to manage anymore sillines that were coming out of the kids' room in trying to get them to settle or if she was just really avoiding going downstairs to face dealing with Jack. She thought what she was actually doing was contemplating bed. Or at least trying to get some sleep. She wasn't sure it would come, though. Having a tea and maybe working on some paperwork while some mindless show put out white noise in the background might be a better use of the time.

"He really did, Bri," she said. "He's been talking about it at about a mile a minute all night. He really wants us to go again. Next weekend."

"That's likely pushing it," he muttered.

"I know," Olivia whispered. She pulled the phone from her ear and pressed the button to switch over to video. She waited. And he accepted, his face appearing on her screen. He did look as tired as he sounded. But she was sure he was thinking about the same.

Brian gave her a thin smile at the sight of her, though. "Looking good, Liv," he teased.

She made an amused sound at that and slouched forward a bit more on her knees as she ran her hand through her hair. It was still pulled back from while she was avoiding Emmy's splashing and water play in the tub as she tried to get the girl's hair washed a bit earlier. She was full on in her own lounge wear at that point. About as close as she got to PJs of her own anymore. She rubbed tiredly at her one eye.

"Benji's got a bit of a rash," she said. She'd noticed it when he'd come to get in on the hair-dryer foolishness that had been going on with Emmy. He'd only been in his briefs when he'd come to have his hair dried too. Both the kids loved the warm air blowed at them. And Olivia loved the giggles out of them and the ensuing 'cuddles and shakes' as she finished off on towelling their hair dry. But Benji had fussed away from her when she'd spotted the patches on his skin and questioned him on them. So she'd left it for the moment.

"Lupus rash?" Brian asked.

"I'm not sure," Olivia said. "Have you noticed it before?"

"No," he said. "Where is it?"

"His chest," she said. "And there's a small, almost scaly patch on his back."

Brian gave her a look. "Weird. Maybe he overheated a bit today with the activity?"

"Maybe," she allowed. "I haven't gotten an alert that his bloodwork from yesterday is in his chart yet."

"Think the doc has to sign off on it before we see it. Likely hasn't taken a look at it yet with it being the weekend," he said.

"Maybe," she sighed again but gave her head a little shake. "I just hope nothings too off or he's in a flare. That the treatment gets put-off …"

Brian frowned a bit. "His skin's sensitive—"

"His immune system is sensitive," Olivia countered.

The frown deepened a bit more on his face. "Just meant that maybe he got into something at the party. Dust or whatever cleaners they use. Even whatever's in the foam dart things."

She allowed a small nod at that assessment. It was a possibility.

"The place look OK?" he asked.

"Yeah," she allowed him a little smile. "It did. Clean. Family-friendly. It was pretty much a big gym with different obstacles and covers, targets. Vantage points. Foam pits. It looked like fun. You'd have fun with him. We all would. But he was definitely crawling around on the floor – on his belly – a lot – from the sound of it."

"Figured," Brian gave a smile.

She smiled back a bit. "Barely out the door and I got asked if he's allowed to ask for Nerf blasters and Fortnite for Christmas."

Brian rolled his eyes a bit at that. Olivia rubbed her eyebrow again.

"Our 'need to believe to still receive' line re: Santa and not ruining it for Emmy might bite us in the ass," she said. "Apparently Santa brings things that Mom and Dad wouldn't get him."

"Ah, right," Brian shook his head. "Smart kid. All about the loopholes."

"Mmm …," Olivia acknowledged with a weak smile and rubbed at her tired eyes a bit more. "I might be willing to consider a cartoonish, fluorescent, plastic blaster – despite the giant waste of money it represents. I'm still not sure about this Fortnite thing."

"Yea, no," Brian said. "We don't want to wade into online gaming addiction and battles about screen-time and him befriending and chatting with randoms from who-fucking-knows where that we've basically let him invite into our living room."

Olivia let out a little amused noise – but an acknowledgement – at that truth. But she frowned a little. "So the case is going well?" she teased gently at his minor rant there. She didn't blame him, though. They were about on the same page about the video games anymore and where they drew the line for their children.

It was him who made a sound at that. And she let herself sink back into the bed a bit. To lay flat for a few minutes before she had to get back up to manage the kids or go downstairs and face whatever waiting down there for her. They stared at each other for a long moment.

"Looks like at least they're putting you up in a hotel with decent bedding," she said.

"Right," Brian said. "Think they splurged and let us stay in a Marriot."

"Free breakfast," she teased.

Brian rolled his eyes. "Rather be home. Own bed."

She allowed him another thin smile. "Me too. We're missing you."

"Those past eight hours really do you in?" he teased back.

Olivia allowed another quiet smile at that flippant comedic attempt. "It's felt a little like we're passing ships in the night lately, Brian."

"I know," he almost sighed and stared at her. "Get this part out of the way and it'll get easier. Ease up a bit. Home for the holiday weekend. Cash in on some downtime and family time with you guys …"

"You better …," she nodded at him.

His hand went through his own short hair. "I've told them," he said. "They've got me to Tuesday and I'm out of here. Either way. Done or not."

"Hmm …," she acknowledged. Olivia wasn't sure either of them really believed that was going to be how it worked.

They stared at each other for a bit in their mutual dim lights – miles and miles apart.

"He freaking out that I'm not going to be there?" Brian asked.

Olivia shrugged a little into her pillows. "He understands and he doesn't, Brian."

"I'll be there," he said.

She allowed him a thin smile. "I can handle it if you're not. And I'll make sure he can too."

"I'll be there," he said again.

She just made a quiet sound of acknowledgement. She believed he wanted to be there. And she believed he'd do his best to be there – that his plan was to be there. But until he was in the hospital room with them, she wasn't going to accept it as fact. Olivia knew a lot of factors would come into play.

She rubbed at her eyebrow again. "Did you work when you got there?"

He just made a sound. "Just went to see where they are getting us set up. Worked at arranging our shit. Did a rundown with my guys about our approach here. Plan of attack to try to plow through this quick."

She made another sound of acknowledgement.

"Guess who Illinois sent," he said.

Olivia cocked her head at him and raised her eyebrow.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Erin Lindsay. They've got her in computer crimes, cybercrime. Sounds like a lot of child exploitation they've got her on."

"That's a harsh reality to be staring in the face every day when you've got little ones at home …" Olivia said.

She'd seen Erin Lindsay struggle on those cases when they'd previously had crossover with Chicago PD's Intelligence Unit and bringing down exploitation and pornography rings. But she knew that despite some of the missteps and emotions that came in there that she'd again ended up dealing with a lot of cases in those areas while she'd been on Brian's team. Though, Olivia got the impression the younger woman hadn't intended to continue in that area after she got back to her home city. But plans change. And so do job availability and openings. They'd also gotten the impression that Lindsay's transition back to Chicago hadn't gone particularly smoothly – not as a cop or as a mother. But they'd only heard so much since she left New York.

"She going to be easy to work with?" Olivia asked.

Brian made a sound. "Illinois wants these guys. They've got their own interests in the case. Just like all of us. But that kid always has barrels blazing. Not sure much has changed. Don't think kids mellowed her."

She allowed a thin smile. "Those kinds of cases – after you a parent – don't tend to get easier."

Brian made a sound of acknowledgement.

"You had a chance to talk? Beyond work?" she asked.

He moved his arm to support his head. "Yeah. Grabbed a bite with her. My guys wanted to take the night to see some of the city. You know, kind of beyond that. Just wanted to get set up, good to go and be around in case you guys called. Glad you did."

Olivia offered a smile. "She's OK? The babies?"

He made a sound. "Saw some pictures. Those kids hit a genetic jackpot. Cute."

"How old are they now?" Olivia yawned.

"I think she said like nineteen months."

Olivia made a listening sound.

"They're having their own fun-and-games with the medical establishment, challenges with the boy," Brian said. "Sounds like. She didn't go into it too much."

"Yea …," Olivia acknowledged weakly. She ached for Lindsay and her partner. "Cerebral palsy, they're going to have their share of challenges."

"Least know she's on-side with getting this wrapped and home in time for Thanksgiving dinner," Brian said.

Olivia allowed another thin smile. "Emmy's more concerned you're home in time for us to go visit Santa and which museum we're visiting this year."

"Which museum are we visiting this year?" Brian asked.

Olivia shrugged. "I don't know, Bri. With Benji …"

"Yea …," he acknowledged. It hung there. "What about the Macy's outing?"

She exhaled a bit. "I guess if he's feeling up to it. I'm not sure he really wants to see Santa, though. He'd rather just tell us what he wants Santa to bring."

Brian shrugged. "He wants a Nerf blaster better go tell the Jolly Elf and humor his sister."

Olivia smiled and moved the phone a little, switching out of his face staring at her to a Google search.

"I think I lost you," Brian said. "You disappeared."

She adjusted the phone a bit so the camera again was pointing in her general direction. "Sorry," she muttered. "I was just looking up this toy that Emmy is so desperate to get her order into ASAP on."

Brian made an amused noise. "What's top of her list?"

"A Rainbocorn," Olivia said and shook her head as she stared at the toy on her screen. "You're going to hate it."

"What is it?" he asked. But she could see, as she switched back, that he'd moved a bit on the screen too and she had no doubt that he was now looking up the thing himself.

"A stuffed animal with a unicorn horn that comes in a giant egg with slime poop and lots of other pieces of plastic, decorative bling," she said.

"What happened to them asking for Lego and Crayola," Brian muttered. She could tell he was staring at the toy too.

Olivia ran her hand through her hair a bit. "I can't believe we're already to Thanksgiving and having to start thinking about Christmas," she mumbled back. "This year was a black hole."

"Yea, well," Brian acknowledged. He'd seemed to still again. Apparently he was done looking at the monstrosity that was so undisputedly Emily. "It will be fine. Lots of time. Just get Mom to watch them for a night and do a shopping trip. Get it done."

"I know," Olivia acknowledged.

"Or maybe we'll have a live-in babysitter," he said.

She exhaled a bit and looked at him. "Did you talk to John some more?"

He shook his head. "Called but he's not answering. He's pissed. You know, whole 'didn't have kids because I'm not going to inflict myself on anyone' thing."

"Well it's too late for that," Olivia said. "He's inflicted himself on us for twenty-two years."

"He just doesn't want to be a burden," Brian muttered.

"It's not a burden," Olivia pressed with some tone – though not specifically at him. At the whole situation. "We have the space. It will be easier for him. It will be easier for us to check on him. Closer for Don and Eileen."

"Yeah, well, it's a pride thing too, Liv. You know …," Brian said.

Olivia sighed a bit at that.

"You look tired," Brian said.

She shrugged. "So do you."

"Least you got tomorrow, right …," he tried.

"Ah, not really," Olivia muttered. And he cocked his head at her. "The newbie that One PP sent over caught something tonight. I've gotten over-confident phone calls, followed by slightly panicked and mildly confused emails."

"Fantastic …," Brian said.

And she shrugged again. "I'm going to take the kids and go in for an hour or two in the morning," she said. "To pick up any pieces and clean up any paperwork diasters."

"Yeah, well, sometimes Big Man ploughs through his homework a bit better when he's sitting in the big office too," Brian said. "Or he finish up his project tonight?"

"No," Olivia sighed. "He was definitely too hyped up to get him to sit down and work on that. So I plan to do the good mom thing—"

"You are a good mom," Brian interrupted.

But she mostly ignored that assurance. She knew. But there were times – when overwhelment and exhaustion set in that it was hard to believe that – because you had to make concessions just to get through the day or week or hour. Concessions that went outside your daily rules and routines.

"—and bribe them with brunch out for good behavior and finished homework while I try to get some work done."

"Might work," Brian provided. They both knew it was just as likely it wouldn't. Or that her intended hour or two at the office would be more like three because every five minutes she'd be wrangling kids.

"I'm going to try to take them up to see John after," she said. "Try to talk to him myself. They have the cookies for him. And he'll likely be slightly more pleasant with his Munchkins there."

"Don't often put Johnny and pleasant in the same sentence," Brian said.

That got a more genuine amused sound out of her – and she allowed him another small smile.

"Sounds like you're in for a busy day," he said. "You should try to get some shut-eye."

Olivia shook her head and gave the bedroom door a glance. She'd left it open. She'd been surprised that she hadn't heard much out of the kids' room beyond some loud whispers and a bit of movement that made her suspect that Emmy had crawled back into Benji's bed for them to read another story together by flashlight. But they were quiet enough that she wasn't bothering to go and break it up. Not yet. What she did still hear, though, was the television going downstairs. Jack was clearly still waiting up for her.

"Jack's still here," she said in a hushed tone.

Brian gazed at her. There was understanding in his look. "You didn't say how things went with him and Big Man? Ben didn't either."

"Well, he did tell you that Jack isn't very good with guns," Olivia teased.

"'Cuz he's only ever used them on-screen," Brian said.

She made a sound of acknowledgement – and she rubbed at her eyebrow. "They both survived unscathed," she said. "But Benji's definitely giving him some cold shoulder."

"Yeah, well, he deserves it," Brian said. "It's going to take time."

"I know that and you know that," Olivia said. "But I think Jack's just starting to accept that. And I just really don't feel like having some giant discussion about it with him tonight," she added with another sigh and a glance toward the door again.

"He staying over?" Brian asked.

She shook her head and shrugged. "I have no idea, Bri. He hasn't said. He probably doesn't even know. He probably is unless he decides he doesn't like something I say and storms out."

Brian gave his eyes a little roll at that reality. "Least maybe he can stay with the kids in the morning so you can go into the city and get your stuff done a bit faster."

Olivia shrugged again. "You know how they are with Sunday routine," she said. "If we're missing library time, pool time and movie time – I better be offering something in replacement."

"Jack time?" Brian offered.

"I don't think that's an offer anyone is going to buy," she muttered.

It got a smile from him too. A thin one. Sad – frustrated, annoyed – with the reality.

"Are you going to sleep?" she asked. He shrugged at her. "Bri …," she sighed.

"In a bit," he said. "I'm gonna get in a few hours of work of my own."

She nodded a little. "The kids offered to sleep with me tonight," she said. "So I wasn't lonely."

Brian let out a short, low laugh. "Doesn't look like you took them up on that."

"It's not often that I get the bed to myself anymore," she said.

He allowed a weak smile. "Don't know I'd be letting you have it to yourself tonight either."

She tilted her head a bit at that.

"Told you. Looking good," he said.

"Mmm," she said. "Then more reason to make sure you're in this bed by Tuesday night."

"I will be," he said again.

And she let herself smile weakly. She nodded.

And they stared at each other for another long moment.

"I'm going to go, Bri," she said. "Check on them. See what's waiting for me downstairs."

"And sleep," he stressed at her.

Olivia nodded wearily. "That too. Eventually."

He frowned a little at her. And they again examined each other.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too …"

**AUTHOR NOTES:**

**Hopefully the people who like chapters that are dialogue heavy and internal monologue lite got something out of that.**

**Reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated.**

**Next chapter may be Jack/Liv. Or I might jump ahead in the week to Benji's appointments and/or Thanksgiving.**


	30. Life's Projects

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

Olivia made herself take a deep breath before she waded down the stairs and into the murky unknown – that she likely had a good idea of – that was waiting for her. Jack only surprised her so much anymore. As much as some of his actions did, they also just didn't. Not now. After these years – there'd become a predictability to his … emotional deficits and social ability and deliration of responsibilities. She supposed, in a way, even though he hadn't come into her life until he was eighteen, she'd still spent the past seven years getting to know him. And now – she knew her child. The grown man still sulking in her living room – looking scared and a little wounded and rather unsure.

He met her eyes as she got to the bottom of the stairs. It wasn't so much that he pulled them away from the TV. It was more like he'd been sitting there staring at them waiting for her to reappear. But – guilt? Worry? Apprehension? – still played across his face when she got down there. Jack gazed at her quizzing.

"I'm going to put the kettle on," she nodded at him. It was a question. Several, actually. If he intended to stay? If he wanted anything? And just a measure of where he was at in his head.

"Nah. I'm OK," he said.

She allowed him a thin smile at that. It was more of a frown – an exhausted one. But she made no comment. And he made no move to leave or put her on notice that she would soon have her couch, television and evening to herself. For once. The remote continued to bounce on his knee. Though his eyes moved between her and the screen now. Casting glimpses Olivia's way while she filled the kettle and set it to boil.

"Are you planning to stay over tonight, Jack?" she asked him directly, leaning against the counter of the island wearily.

But she spun before he could look to her again to retrieve a mug and to sort through the tea options. She weighed if she wanted something calming, something that might knock her out for a few hours. Or if she wanted something to give her a few more hours of wakefulness and concentration to maybe get some work done and to manage any additional phone calls that might come in. Though, she doubted sleep or any work catch-up were going to happen any time soon. Not with the way she could feel Jack's eyes on her back.

But "Ah, no," Jack said. So maybe there was some hope. "I don't think so. I mean, unless you need me too," he added and did stare at her a bit. "Seemed like your phone was going off a lot?"

She allowed him another thin smile at that. That was almost trying. Or at least being more observant and present than he'd been for some time when it came to her family life and home life and its perilous balance in relation to her job responsibilities.

So she gave her had a little shake. "That can wait until morning."

Jack nodded a bit and bounced the remote some more as she moved to wait for the kettle.

"I thought maybe you were on-call or something this weekend … with the calls," he fished.

Olivia watched kettle that seemed to refuse to boil. So much for the high-priced fast-boil coil unit. "Technically, as commanding officer, I'm always on-call," she said.

"I meant like it's SVU's rotation?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. We've just got a new recruit. It's her first weekend – first case – alone and is needing a bit of hand-holding."

"You got someone new?" Jack asked.

She nodded. But she didn't add more. It wasn't worth getting into. He should know that they'd never gotten around to replacing Nick. Or Munch for that matter. Though, he likely didn't know that she was looking down the barrel at losing Carisi too and would be down to a unit of two. One PP wouldn't have let that last long. So hopefully this rookie worked out. So far she wasn't sure.

It almost made her hope that Carisi didn't decide to abandon ship. But after the bit of a talk she had with him that afternoon while he dropped in with Jessie and Billie while Amanda looked at Brooklyn rentals that she wasn't supposed to know she was looking at – she definitely got the sense Carisi had more than made his decision even if he was still teetering back and forth on the reality and logistics of what that meant professionally and personally.

Olivia had seen that coming, though. From the Blue Line rumor mill and from Brian's talk with the younger man. It'd been pretty clear where Sonny would be landing. Not that it was unexpected at all. She had never thought he was just doing law school for kicks. But Carisi was definitely police even if he'd spent all the years she'd known him being a Barba-wannabe.

"Are you on rotation for Thanksgiving?" he asked.

And she allowed him a glance at that. "Manhattan SVU did draw the short straw on that one," she allowed. "But with the days I've booked off for Benji, Fin has reluctantly agreed he'll be Acting CO. Calls will go through him first."

She could feel Jack nod a little. "A lot of calls on that holiday?"

Olivia shrugged. "There tends to be an up-tick in DV over the holidays. If they're things SVU needs to be called in for …" she shrugged again. That was a mixed bag.

"What about Christmas? You guys on-call or rotation? They tell you yet?"

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow. "We lucked out in the rotation hat-pull," she conceded, "But we are the scheduled on-call unit."

Jack made a sound and she allowed him a glance. He shrugged. "Just that the years you've been on-call, you've still usually gotten called in."

"Holidays, family, parties, gatherings, emotions, loneliness and alcohol," she said flatly.

"Yea …," Jack allowed quietly. "It's just kinda worse than the years you're on rotation. Like rotation at least we sorta know when you'll be home and plan the day around it. On-call … you know … it's like drop everything. Day kinda stalls out."

"That's the job," she said.

"Yea …," he said again. And she could feel him still staring at her. "Seriously, if you need to like go help the new guy or whatever, I can stay over and come back tomorrow or you can drop them off at my place or I can meet up with you guys or whatever."

Olivia allowed him a thin smile at that. "New girl," she said and then corrected herself. "New woman – detective. And, really, Jack, it should be fine."

"I just sorta thought I heard you … on the phone? With Brian? And say something about going in tomorrow?"

She turned back to the kettle at that and rolled her eyes a little. All these kids heard what they wanted to hear. Their antennas were up – even when you thought (or hoped) they weren't listening. There was really no such thing as privacy in that house. You had to be careful what you said – when and where.

"We're going to go see John," she provided. "I was going to stop into the Precinct and make sure everything was under control."

"OK …," Jack allowed near silently. There was almost a disappointment to it that she detected.

"Everything's under control, Jack," she told him with another glance – this time more to pour her tea. "You can get back to your weekend."

"Yea, OK," he said but still with a bit of a weakness to it, "with not seeing Renee today, that's good. You know. Cuz we've been – I've been – kinda trying harder there. Usually … before … we'd do dim sum Sunday. So …"

"Mmm …," Olivia allowed and again allowed him a small smile. It was almost sweet coming out of his mouth. As much as the thought of their relationship – and the potential (and very likely inevitable) fallout – caused her stomach to knot.

"You wanna watch Castle Rock?" Jack asked as she brought her tea over to the couch and tucked her legs under herself.

Olivia squinted at the screen and shook her head. "I don't know what Castle Rock is."

He gave her a look. There was some disbelief wrapped up in it. "It's like inspired by Stephen King stories."

"Mmm, no," Olivia shook her head again.

"It's pretty good," Jack muttered. "Renee likes it. Or she likes Stephen King books. Or the Bachman short stories. I don't know. I'm a little behind on Castle Rock. I'm trying to catch-up so we can watch together."

"Mmm," Olivia allowed again and another small smile. She woldn't have pegged Renee as a Stephen King, spooky movie, horror story fan. Perhaps she had enough of that in her life. But everyone found their own distractions to bury themselves in. Fantasy – even scary fantasy – could often prove better than the horrors of reality. "Did you two go see the It movie?" she asked.

"Ah," Jack shrugged. "We were kinda …" And it hung there. "I don't know if she saw it. I forgot the second one was out …"

Olivia watched him as that also hung there. But Jack just flicked the smart remote around the screen some more, seemingly aimlessly.

But Olivia often found with so many options on the television screen anymore you spent more time just looking at the options than actually watching anything. It was part of the reason she didn't argue too much about Brian taking control of the remote. He'd generally just put it on a sports channel or a news channel and stop. It was white noise while they decompressed or did their separate paperwork.

"What about El Camino?" he asked eventually, giving her another glance.

She glanced at the screen with a quiet sigh. Jack clearly thought they still needed to spend time together. Based on the media he was picking – at least two hours more of time. And she was betting that the time sitting next to each other staring at the television was him working up to some kind of conversation-turned-confrontation with her.

"Brian and I watched that a while ago," she provided flatly.

Jack gave her a surprised look. "Really? Did you even watch Breaking Bad?"

She allowed a little shrug and brought her tea up to her mouth to feel the steam a bit. Maybe that would perk her up. Though she wasn't sure she wanted to.

"Brian watched it," she said. Though, that had meant there were parts of it she saw too. And eventually resulted in her picking through the whole series. But Jack just gave her one of those looks of his. And Olivia raised any eyebrow. "The man did spend a chunk of his adult life working Narcotics."

Jack made a sound. But he didn't provide any context on what it meant and Olivia didn't quite get a read on it. She wasn't sure she wanted one. Not when it was likely connected to some sort of commentary on Brian. But he just continued his flicking. And Olivia stared at the screen like she had some kind of vested interest in him finding something to watch. It was more like she had a vested interest in him not finding something, though.

"So that's what you guys do Saturdays? Netflix and chill …" he muttered. There was innuendo to it. And tone. Tone that Olivia didn't like.

But she just left it. Or played the game – without engaging. "Pretty much," she agreed.

Because realistically, it wasn't a bad summary of what their Saturday nights did look like – if they were both actually home and not on-call, on rotation or having to work at digging themselves out from beneath a pile of paperwork they were behind on, and not entirely exhausted from the week or the day of spending time with their family, and the kids actually stayed in their own beds. If all those criteria were met, Netflix and Chill sounded like a pretty good combination and a rather reasonable and enjoyable Saturday night to her. It actually sounded like the kind of Saturday evening she'd appreciate that night – with her husband – rather than whatever her adult adopted ward had in mind for her on that couch. Actually she thought that her and Brian could really use at least the 'chill' part of Jack's statement – alone, in bed – to try to work through – get some relief, or consoling, or just distraction – from all the stress and emotions at play lately. That actually sounded like a really good – and much needed Saturday night to Olivia.

"Sounds like I've been missing a lot," Jack muttered again.

"You have," she said. And he had. More than he knew – or at least more than he was still willing to accept. But she still said nothing more – because she wasn't going to engage much more unless he pushed it. She'd be happy to put off this … whatever he was gunning for … until another time. But she felt him glance her way again and give her a bit of a once over.

"You look super tired," he said.

She allowed a quiet – slightly amused noise – at that observation. She supposed it was one of the nicer ways Jack had put it in a long time. His usual commentary of late had been, 'You kinda look like shit' or 'Where'd you buy that and why are you wearing it?'

"The playdate with Rollins' kids really that exhausting?" Jack added.

And Olivia shrugged a little – into her tea. "It was a busy day, Jack," she said. "And Carisi bringing the girls by had more to do with him wanting to talk to me – privately – than a playdate for the girls."

He stared at her. Squinted at her in a way that reminded her so much of her Little Fox. And sometimes – times like these past many months – seeing that look on a grown man that she was struggling so much to connect with and tolerate was hard. She worried more that it wouldn't be too many more years before she had Benji sitting down the couch with her trying to engage her in these kinds of mind games and manipulations.

"What'd he need to talk to you about?" Jack asked. "The greenie you've got or something?"

And Olivia shrugged again. "Carisi is at a sign post in his life and he's working at sorting through some personal from professional in figuring out which road he's going to take."

And Jack squinted at her even more.

"It likely was a conversation not so different from some of what we talked about this morning," she provided.

She saw Jack process that for a beat. "And what he's leaving? SVU?" he clarified. And Olivia just shrugged. He squinted. "And you're sad about that? You look like really sad tonight?"

Olivia allowed a weak smile at that observation.

"Or you're sad about Munch?" Jack said.

"I guess a little of both," she allowed. And his eyes stayed on her. So she met them, leaning into the back of the couch a bit with her shoulder. "Right now, maybe it's more pillow talk with the kids."

He stared at her. And she allowed a small smile – or at least attempted one.

"They're getting excited about the holidays coming up. We were talking about that. So I guess I'm thinking a bit about what Thanksgiving and Christmas are going to look like."

"And like John?" Jack asked.

Olivia shrugged. "Yes. That. But other things. Just time going by, Jack. The kids were saying some of the things they're looking forward to and dreaming about what they might want to ask Santa for."

"I thought Jamin didn't believe in Santa anymore," Jack said.

And her smile got a little weaker. "He doesn't. And he doesn't want to go see the firefighters rescue Santa from the roof of the fire station." She shrugged a bit. "I think it might be the first Christmas where there isn't a fire truck or Transformer in his top three items on his wish list. He's growing up. And I don't know where the time is going."

Jack stared at her. She could tell her was processing it but maybe like he didn't know what to say.

"I guess he doesn't want any skating stuff either," he finally did say.

Olivia shrugged a bit. "Maybe not unless it's ice hockey skating," she said. "And right now, he'd probably really prefer basketball."

Jack let out a little sigh at that and stared off behind her. She suspected he was trying to see out through the sliding door and onto the back deck and into their little garden plot. But the porch light wasn't on so she was sure all he was seeing was a reflection of himself staring back at him. And his head rested against the side of the couch a bit as he looked at it.

"I guess I should ask you like … what they like or want now," he said. "It sort of seems like … I don't know … I guess I don't really know that kind of stuff right now. What they're into."

Olivia allowed an attempt at a weak smile at that acknowledgement. But the reality was it really should be a frown. But she only shrugged at him.

"They're still pretty easy, Jack. Lego, anything science related, arts and crafts. Benji's requests are getting a little more grown up."

"Like what?" Jack asked.

"Headphones, wireless speakers, shoes, videogames," she shrugged. "He's trying to fit in. And he's not a little boy anymore."

Jack sighed a little at that and his eyes drifted away from hers again. "When'd that happen …"

"Slowly and all at once," she said. "In the six months - twelve months - that you've been … distracted and distant from us, Jack."

His eyes drifted back to hers. And they stared at each other. She could see some emotion playing behind them but he was quiet for a long beat.

"I've kinda got a bit of a deal with Renee," he finally said.

Olivia measured that. "And what kind of deal is that?"

"That if I want to even attempt at our relationship maybe working, that I need to work on this," he said and gestured between them. "And she wants me to go to therapy for a bit. Again."

Olivia stared at him as she did her own processing of that. "Well, Jack, I'm glad that you're starting to work on those areas, but I wish you were doing it for you – not for an attempt at a relationship."

He sighed a bit and stared beyond her again. "I know you don't really get it and I know you don't really approve, but I really do want my relationship to work. She's seriously … been good for me. It's like my own decisions and fuck-ups about how to talk to you guys about it and just stuff that messed up my relationship with her and her relationship with you and my whole relationship with you guys. My family. And she's … pissed at me about all that too."

Olivia rubbed her eyebrow. "OK …," she said.

"That's all?" Jack put back to her.

She exhaled a bit and stared at him for a long moment. "Jack, we did OK today. You and Benji did. You and Emmy did. Us – our family – mending past hurts is going to be a process that isn't going to happen in a single overnight. And, I'm not sure if after us having an OK start you really want to wade into any more less than a week before Thanksgiving. And at nine o'clock at night, Jack. When I'm tired and you're tired and emotions are high."

"I want to do this – to talk a bit – because I want to be here for Thanksgiving. And I want Renee to feel like she can be here. And I just want you and Jamin and even Brian and Emmy to be good with that," he said.

"You and Renee are welcome here for Thanksgiving," she said evenly.

Jack just stared at her. "Why do you hate our relationship so much?" he blurted out rather directly. "Like really? Why is it that big of deal?"

Olivia let out a slow exhale and leaned forward a bit to set her tea on the coffee table while she stared at him. His arm was across the back of the couch and the remote was still bouncing up and down in his hand. She reached and took that from him too – setting it on the table before it got turned into some kind of mallet or projectile device. He just stared – or glared – at her more.

"I'm not good enough for her, right?" he said. "Because that's always basically what it feels like it comes down to. We're family. You love me. But I'm so fucked up that you don't think I'm unlovable to anyone else or have the capacity to love or some kind of bullshit."

She frowned at him and found his hand that was still bouncing on the back of the couch. She squeezed it but he quickly pulled it away.

"Sweetheart, that's not what I think. What I do think is that you and Renee have both been through a lot. A lot, Jack," she stressed at him firmly. "And I worry about both of you. I know you struggled with figuring out how to maintain a relationship with Christina and how to be there for her with her losing her mom."

"That was different," Jack pressed at her. And his eyes welled a bit and he shook his head. "Stuff went on there. Stuff you don't know. It wasn't just … her mom dying. It was … her. I wasn't right for her and she definitely wasn't right for me. It just … it took me a while to get there. Because … whatever … unlovable, don't know how to be in relationships, distrust of women, etcetera."

He wiped at his eyes – almost violently and turned away from her as he did, like that would mask what he was doing.

"OK, Jack," she said quietly and evenly. "You are not unlovable. But, yes, I think you do struggle with being in relationships. And we both know that you – unfortunately – have had some horrendous experiences from some of the women who should've loved you the most. And I recognize – I hear you – that that's going to affect the way you find your way in this life and the kind of relationships and family you have. And that does make me worry because I feel like sometimes you … at the first sign of a woman who may trust you or treat you with some level of decency … you interpret that in some kind of skewed way. You rush into relationships. Maybe you rush into love. You force it to continue too long – or are blind to it not working – because you want validation that you're lovable and wanted and needed and cared for. And my concern for that – with Renee specifically – is that I know she's a woman who … she tries to help people, sweetheart. She tries to take care of them and alleviate some of their suffering and find solutions for them. And that's not what I want the relationship to be for either of you. And I'm not sure that's what either of you need long-term, Jack. She has her own big things she's working through about men and trust and relationships and life and family too."

"So isn't that a common ground?" Jack pressed at her. "Isn't that a reason … that we should like be together?"

She sighed a little at him. "I can't answer that for you, Jack. That's something you two are going to have to work out. But it's why I worry. It's why I have concerns about the relationship. And it's why I don't want either of you to force it – to keep trying – if it's not working. You both deserve – and really need – more than that."

Jack swiped at his eyes again. "I love her," he said. "Not like how I … felt about Christina. It's … it's really different. We've been together like a year, Mom. It took me that long to figure out what that feeling was and to tell her. And I fucked up stuff here and stuff with her in the process. So it can't be now just like 'it doesn't work' and … that's it."

"It can be if it's not working, Jack," she said.

He shook his head. "But it does work when it's working," he said. "I mean, like, relationships are work. They aren't perfect. Like no one is going to be your perfect match. You and Brian aren't. You … you guys fight all the time. Argue. But you … you say he's your best friend. Renee's my best friend."

"Sweetheart," she sighed again. "I'm not sure … Brian and I are the best measure for you. It's different circumstances."

Jack pressed a tight fist into the back cushions of the couch. "It's like you always say that," he tremored out. "It's like … I don't know who I'm supposed to talk to about any of this stuff. About what's hard and what confuses me about this. About relationships and about Renee. And I feel like I should be able to ask you. And whenever I try to get into it – you just shut me down. You make it harder."

Olivia practiced some breathing and watched him. She could see Jack was teetering a bit. Maybe more than a bit.

"Jack, you often make it very hard to talk to you about my relationship with Brian because you get very emotional and often come across as wanting to be very controlling of my life and Benji's and very judgmental of Brian. And I don't want to get involved in those kinds of discussions or arguments."

"But then you don't even talk to me about anything. Like getting married. You didn't even like give me a heads up that you were going to do that," he said.

She tilted her head at him. "John-Paul, we did give you a heads up – after we decided to go ahead with it. We did not 'ask' you – your permission or your thoughts – because there wasn't any place for either. It was our decision."

"And I wasn't allowed to even have thoughts about it," he pressed at her.

"You're welcome to have all the thoughts you want about it," Olivia said. "But it was still our decision. It was my decision – about my life and my family."

"So you basically just settled," Jack muttered.

Olivia exhaled at that and found his eyes. "It's those kinds of comments that make me not want to have these conversations, Jack. These critical, back-handed, derogatory comments about Brian."

Jack's nostrils flared just a bit at that but she kept his line of sight.

"I settled, Jack – settled down – when a little four-year-old boy ended up on my doorstep and I feel in love with him. When I became a mother. That's what I settled for. And I wasn't the only one who did. I wasn't the only one who feel in love with Benji. And Benji very much picked Brian as his daddy – and I was lucky enough that I was in a relationship with him and already loved him very much when Benji made that decision for our family. And our family was very lucky that Brian loved ALL OF US enough that he was ready to settle and be there for us. For seven years, Jack. I have been raising a family with that man for seven years. He cares for us and he takes care of us. And he provides a stability in this home. Brian wanted and needed some stability. For him – that included a ring and signatures on a dotted line – and I was at the point in my life, Jack, I was more than happy to provide that. He'd earned it. And this whole family needed it."

"And so you went and changed Jamin's last name too," Jack said. "Without asking. Without even telling me."

Olivia kept his eyes still. "We did – and that's something Benji wanted, Jack. It's something he's asked for. And, again, it's something Brian had earned."

She saw Jack's fist clench against the couch cushions again. And Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow.

"Jack, don't tell me you don't see the way Brian looks at Benji and Emily."

"What's that even mean," he muttered.

Olivia got into his line of sight again. "Do you see him smile like that when he's not in a room with those kids? Do you not see the way he looks at them? How much he loves them?"

Jack eyes darted away from her at that but she reached and pressed her index finger against his chin until he looked at her again.

"Jack, I will never, ever forget that you gave me a family. That you brought so much happiness into my life. You changed me life. And that is why I signed on a dotted line for you. It's why you're family. And it's why I put up with moments – months and months – like this."

Jack's eyes flicked from hers again. But she saw the change in his face. She felt the change in the room. See it in his breathing, the color in his cheeks. And she stooped in to find his eyes again.

"I didn't get to give Brian a biological child of our own, Jack," she said and shook her head at him. Her eyes welling a bit at that admission – and reality that she wasn't going to go into how close they had gotten to the almost and what-ifs there. "But I did get to give him – to share with him – Benji and Emily. They've changed his life. They've given him a family. And they've brought him so much happiness. He deserves that. And I had the chance to do that for him – by just signing on a couple of dotted lines. And after everything this family has been through – after the ways Brian was there for this family, there for you kids when I couldn't be – I hate thinking, Jack. I really, really hate to think that all this – these months and this year – has been about making something official that already seemed rather official to me."

"See," Jack said. "You say that. All the time. Like this family became a family because of what happened. Because Brian was there when you couldn't be or when you were back and were … all fucked up. But then you won't talk about it or say anything about it or tell me about what the hell happened."

Olivia sat back – distancing herself from him a bit at that. "Because, Jack, it always feels like you're fishing for the gory details. And I don't know what more you want me to say about it then what you know – what you think you know or saw in the news or saw in the bruises all over my face and body when I did get to – when I fought to – come home to all of you. But what I think you want to hear out of me – I am not ever – EVER – going to talk to you about. Those are not images I want in your head. They are not things I want any of my children thinking or worrying about. And they are things that I am still working at talking about with my husband, Jack."

"And you don't think that feeling like I could talk to you about some of that would help me when I'm in a relationship with a rape survivor," he pressed at her with teetering emotion that she again measured her read on. "When … fucking how to fucking have sex with a rape survivor."

They both sat there after that blurt out hung there and Jack again looked away. His knee bouncing. And Olivia sitting off in the corner of the couch just staring at him.

"Well, Jack, the answer to that is a lot of communication, understanding and ongoing consent," she said.

Jack just exhaled and stared forward at the TV screen – not looking at her. Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow. And forced herself to calm a bit – taking several breaths. Counting them and feeling them rise and fall in her chest.

"And, again, sweetheart, Brian and I aren't … the best measure. We were in a relationship before my assault. And we had very open lines of communication in that area of our life before it too. We've … definitely had to work on … a lot of things since then. Things have been different. But, if you want raw honesty, I'm not sure that's an area of my life that I would've gotten back to … readily … if I hadn't come home to a pre-existing relationship. And I'm at a point in my life I really have trouble imagining ever feeling comfortable enough with another person to be able to actively have a sex life if Brian and I were ever to split. But everyone is different. How people cope with a sexual assault – and how they try to get past it or find normalcy – it's their own journey."

"OK …," he said flatly at almost a whisper, still staring at the television.

Olivia let out a little sigh. "And, Jack, part of the reason I avoid having any conversations about relationships with you or asking too many questions is because I can have more substantial conversations about sex with my six-year-old and eleven-year-old. You … are incredibly uncomfortable with—"

"I'm twenty-five," he interrupted. "I'm not going to talk about my sex life or sex with my mom."

"Mmm," Olivia allowed. "But you're comfortable making all sorts of allusions about mine and Brian's sex life."

He gave her a little glance. "I just don't like that he touches you like that."

"Jack, it's none of your business – but Brian doesn't touch me in ways I don't like. And if I don't like something or am uncomfortable – he hears me and he stops. Because we know how to – and are comfortable – communicating about that."

Jack just took a deep breath – so deep it was visible to her on the opposite side of the couch.

Olivia rubbed her eyebrow and watched him. "If you and Renee aren't in a place you both feel comfortable enough or mature enough to have those kinds of conversations – maybe it's another sign that this is not the right relationship for either of you."

"And what if it's not Renee who doesn't know how to have those kinds of conversations," he muttered.

Olivia watched him carefully. "Then you're twenty-five, John-Paul. Almost twenty-six, and maybe Renee's right – you need to speak to someone about why you are that uncomfortable having those conversations. And maybe someone who can coach you through a bit of how to have those conversations."

"That sounds real spontaneous and romantic," Jack mumbled.

Olivia shrugged. "Sweetheart, the reality is that a lot of sex as you get older isn't some lust filled romp. I'm sorry that maybe you missed out on that phase. But, Jack, if you find the right person and learn how to have these kinds of conversations – to develop that kind of trust and comfort and communication – you're going to eventually get to make love. And, trust me, that can be a whole lot more fulfilling than some spontaneous quickie."

Jack flushed red. She saw it burst down his cheek even though he still wasn't looking at her. Even though his arms were still crossed and he was still staring at the television.

He stayed that way – staring at nothing expect maybe the entertainment center's blue-glow lights on the stand under the television. And Olivia stared at him.

"You think something is wrong with me," he whispered.

Olivia sighed and rested her elbow on the back of the couch staring at him and measuring how she wanted to answer that.

"I think, Jack, that you've been through a lot. I know you have post-truamatic stress. I know the kind of exposures and interactions you had to sex and relationships as a child and young teen were likely very confusing – and hurtful to the point of potentially being damaging – to you. And there's been points since knowing you that I've seen red flags. But – I've tried to respectful of your timeline and your space. I've taken comfort in knowing that you had access to help – a therapist – before. And that you had a family who loves and cares about you very deeply providing a safety net – if it got to the point you needed one."

He gave her a small look at that and she took the moment to again find his hand – to hold it and still that clenching of the fists that was turning his knuckles bright white and his fingers dark red.

"And I have heard you, Jack," she nodded at him, trying to encourage him to keep her eyes. "I know that finishing grad school was a very big deal. And we are very, very proud of you. I heard you. I know that deciding between pursuing architecture and pursuing law school was a big choice and it wasn't easy for you and you aren't sure you made the right choice. I understand that first real jobs are hard. That no job is perfect or entirely what you expect and usually includes exponentially more paperwork than the stuff you really want to be doing or you feel would be helping or counting for anything real. And I know that's not going to change – I can absolutely assure you of that – whatever job you do in whatever field you eventually end up in. I know being at the bottom of the ladder and getting used to a new schedule that quickly turns into a daily grind is a hard reality to accept. I know you aren't loving your job. I know Benji being sick scares you and I know you're working through your own stages of grief about that. But you don't need to stay in 'self-blame' or 'guilty' as long as you have – because it is not your fault. It is no one's fault. It just is what it is and it's something we need to deal with as a family and something your nephew – your little brother – needs you to learn to accept to help him find his own self-acceptance and so he can thrive, Jack. I hear you that you have some misgivings about how our family finally – FINALLY, Jack – formalized itself. And I understand that that's a lot of layers of life and emotions you're sorting through. But I still can't help but feel that it's been since you've been in a relationship with Renee – since that moved beyond friendship – that something triggered in you and it's contributed to this spiral out of control that we've been in. And that makes me worry more. It makes me very concerned about what is going on – about the relationship, about you – and how to help you, Jack. How to get my son back. How to get Benji and Emmy's big brother-uncle. How to make things right – stable – for our family again."

His eyes were glassy. She could see it in the low light. She could see him chewing on his inner cheek. She could feel his chewed down thumbnail rubbing against the palm of her hand as she clutched his. He hadn't pulled away and now it felt like each restless movement of his finger was him trying to assure himself she was still there. A test of minor discomfort – and if it would be her who'd pull away first. But she didn't. Despite all this. The months and months and months – and YEARS – of this dance she'd done with this young man who reminded her so much of his father (that wasn't likely his father). But still a young man who'd given her a family and who needed a family of his own.

His eyes finally moved away from hers and he stared off at the floor – at nothingness.

"What if you're kind of right," he said. Asked.

"About which part, Jack," Olivia put back to him quietly.

And he shrugged. "Renee thinks … says … I need to talk to you about it. At least a bit. And a therapist."

Olivia allowed a little nod. "Well, Jack, she's right that you're dealing with a lot and I do think maybe a therapist would help you sort through some of it and to learn how to better manage what you're feeling and whatever you're going through."

He just sat there again. And she just stayed next to him.

"I called Dr. Lindstrom," Jack almost whispered. "He said he can't take me as a patient again right now because it's a conflict of interest. What does that mean? Like … he just thinks he can't help me anymore?"

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow with her free hand. "Ah, no. It likely means that I'm seeing him right now, sweetheart." And she got a glance. So she just gave him a weak smile and a little nod. "But I'll talk to him about that and I can see if maybe he has some other recommendations for me or maybe he can have you in to hear what your needs are right now and offer you a list of some of his colleagues that might be able to help you. He did that for Brian."

"Brian's seeing a shrink?" Jack almost gaped.

Olivia shrugged. "This family is all dealing with a lot lately, Jack. Sometimes … it's very hard to sort through all of that in an objective way – a forgiving way – on our own."

He kept her eyes for a long beat and then turned away. She could still see him biting on that cheek.

"What did you mean 'red flags'?" Jack asked after some time.

"I think you know what I mean, Jack," Olivia said.

His head nodded a bit. But then there was nothing – but that fingernail against her palm.

"You're allowed to talk to me, sweetheart," she said. "I hope you know that. This family – it's your safe place. Even after all this – these months. And, whatever you say or whatever's bothering you, whatever happened in the past or whatever the future might bring – you're still always going to be My Boy Jack."

He gave her a look and a weak smile. But his eyes were glassy. Maybe too glassy because his free hand smacked up to them and swiped at them.

"I feel so stupid," he said and swiped at his eyes again. "Talking about any of it makes me feel stupid. Renee bringing it up does. You acting like you know does."

"Acting like I know what, Jack?" she put back to him and held his hand tighter. His hand was clammy and held at hers almost too tightly. But she let him.

Jack tried to shrug. But his other hand reached to wipe at his eyes again.

"I don't know," he muttered. "That … I guess Greg …" And Olivia felt her chest tighten and her throat clench as her stomach turned. But she just held onto his hand.

"Greg what, sweetheart …" she pressed gently when he stopped.

He shrugged – more shuttered. "I don't know. Did more than hit me in the way I said he hit me," Jack stuttered out.

"He touched you," Olivia said flatly.

Jack shook his head and bent his head. And Olivia saw a tear drop down off his face and into his lap. "He … he …. He hurt me. Really bad," he said and gestured his hand at his crotch.

"OK …," Olivia allowed. Even the doctor had told her the level of force Jack would've had to be kneed at for the kind of injury he had to his testicles was … not something that was entirely plausible. If she hadn't suspected before – there had been lots in the aftermath where she'd had her suspicions. But maybe she'd forced herself to be blind or naïve – because she didn't want to believe or explore what her boys might've truly been exposed to.

"He rubbed against me," Jack got out in broken syllables but then his head shook hard. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want you thinking about it or knowing about it or worrying about it."

"OK," she allowed. "We don't have to talk about it anymore tonight, Jack. But I think … we should talk a bit more about it. And you should let me help you find someone who will listen to you and help you get a handle on this so you don't have to carry it around this way for the rest of your life."

His eyes found hers. "He didn't touch Jamin," he nearly croaked out. "I didn't let him while I was there. And he was too little – way too little for what …" And it hung there and Olivia heart twisted. "But … it's more why I couldn't leave him there. Why I had to go back after Izzy …"

She squeezed his hand. "I know, sweetheart. You did really, really good getting him out of there. But to a little boy – that one brave, selfless act of self-sacrifice, it's too big for him to entirely understand. And it's not enough for a little boy. He needs his uncle to still be there for him. Now. He really does."

Jack nodded. But she could feel his breathing shaky.

"Deep, slows breaths, Jack," she said. "Feel your hand in mine. Feel your feet on the floor."

Olivia could see his nostrils flaring in exaggerated movements as he tried to calm his breathing and the heart rate she could feel pounding through his finger tips.

"It wasn't just Christina being long distance or her seeing … fucking … other people and not telling me," Jack finally muttered at a near whisper. "It was … things she liked … the way she liked it or what she wanted me … how she wanted me to be or do stuff … and … the control she needed. It really confused me and fucked me up. It just … it brought up stuff in a way … I don't know …"

"That's OK, Jack," Olivia said and squeezed his hand. "Sex can be really hard and really confusing when you've been through trauma. It's harder when your first exposures to sexual touch are violent and unwanted. That's not your fault."

He stared at the floor. "I thought … I thought with Renee it'd be different. Because … we're friends. Friend first. And we did talk about some stuff and we went super slow, Mom," he croaked. "But she was still … she's way more ready for all that stuff than me. Before me. And I fucked up our first time together. And now she's … she's letting me still try. And I don't know what I'm doing and it still feels … confusing and … not right. Even though she feels right. To me. But I hadn't thought of … that I'm just some project for her. Some project she's now stuck working on because she doesn't give up on things or people or let go."

And Olivia saw another tear drop down off his face and into his lap. Followed by another and another.

And she shifted on the couch closer to him. And he let her. And she wrapped her arm around his shoulder and brought him even closer to her into a hug. She could feel his hot face radiating through the material of her shirt and against her shoulder. The dampness of his tears he was trying to hid – but struggling to hold in – pooling there too.

"That's not how I meant it, sweetheart," she whispered into his hair that as usual had – still at twenty-five – way too much product in it. She shushed him a bit. "We're all works in progress, Jack," she hushed at him in quiet tones. "Broken projects needing repair. We're all looking for someone to take us on and help fix us. But we've got to help ourselves too. You're going to get there. You're going to be alright."

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**I know some of you don't love Jack chapters. Some of you missed Jack getting chapters and felt he was being left out of the series now.**

**Either way — reviews, feedback and comments are appreciated.**

**The next chapter will likely be Benji's treatment and/or Thanksgiving.**


	31. Debrief

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

"Hey … do you want to talk about it?" Jack heard Renee ask.

He was almost surprised he'd registered it. But maybe it wasn't the first time she asked. Not with the way she was looking at him. Maybe not with the 'hey' at the start of the question. But Jack had been pretty lost in his own head even though he was sort of staring right at her. Reality was he wasn't really looking at anything, though.

Or maybe it was more like he was staring into an abyss. He wanted to say it was the abyss that was his life so far. Not his future. But sometimes life anymore just felt like he was like some speck of space junk that was was being sucked into a black hole. Never to be seen again. And sometimes he thought that was appropriate. Poetic even. There were definitely moments he really just wanted to disappear. It seemed easier than wading through all this shit that made up his existence. This scarred piece of flesh. Like his whole being was just some scar tissue that couldn't heal.

But then there were other moments. Maybe sort of like this. Where she was there. Looking at him. Where he knew he was visible. He was seen. And he wanted to be. It sort of felt like there was hope he could heal. Like maybe even he could one day become whole. So he didn't have to stare into nothingness. Didn't need to disappear. He just needed to kind of meet her line of sight. Let himself be seen.

"Mmm …," he offered and looked into her eyes.

It seemed like the right non-commital answer. The one that actually meant pretty much 'no'. Without saying it because he couldn't. Because Renee did operate on no means no. But the 'no' here, even though it was his choice it would also be a nail in his coffin. If he wanted this relationship. If he wanted to prove to her that he was working on shit. Their relationship. His relationship with his family. Himself.

Renee was looking at him. On her side and kind of stroking at his cheek and touching loosely at his bit of barely-a-sideburn of his undercut. The barely there hair around his ear and on the side of his head.

Jack could hardly remember how they got there. How he got home. Or back to his place. Or whatever. This place would never feel like home. But it didn't really matter. He was so off on a different plane.

He did remember that Renee had been at his place when he got there. And that had kind of surprised him. And that it smelled like Pinesol. Like she'd been on some kind of cleaning spree. Disinfection of this place.

Maybe this place needed that. Maybe his life did. Some kind of fresh pine scent start. A reboot.

Maybe that's what this was? Saying shit out loud? Putting it out there? But it also just sorta felt like everything was just hanging out there. And he was still trying to decide if it was some sort of hangman's dance he was on. Caught in a noose.

Just how fucking different things would be now. Just different things could be if he went to therapy. If he was able to figure out how to move on. Or compartmentalize. Or cope. Or all these catch-phrases that Mom used.

Become whole. Put down the baggage. Stop being a victim. Be a survivor. That all this shit – guilt, self-loathing, self-hate, insecurity, self-depreciation, etcetera – would be put down. Set down that baggage. Not carry it around his whole life.

That sounded like wishful thinking. He wasn't sure it was even the sort of thing that Pinesol could spiff up and mask all fresh and shiny.

Jack did remember that … after he got in the door, Renee must've said something. That he'd followed her into his miniscule bathroom. By her hand. His fingers curled into hers.

And then into its tiny walk-in shower. That he pretty much let her undress him and nudge him into the hot stream of water and all that steam. And that it felt good for some of it … the weight of everything … to lift and maybe wash away for at least a moment. Even better than the Pinesol. Some fucking Irish Spring instead.

Wash away.

He did remember that then she'd been in there with him.

And he'd stared. Because they'd never been quite that naked in quite that kind of exposed way for quite that long before.

And she was beautiful. So fucking beautiful.

But that made him feel like a bit more of a mess. Scarred flesh and scarred soul. Visible and invisible to her. But she already knew it was all there. She'd seen and heard it all before. But he usually moved her hands away.

He hadn't. Not that night. Because instead he was looking at her. That she'd … trust him to see her there. So fucking exposed. Fuck. She'd exposed more to him than he'd been able to to her. He knew her story. But he only feed her breadcrumbs of his. Maybe that's what she'd been in his apartment. Cleaning up. Or just collecting.

And then – giving him some sort of chance to make it whole. Or himself.

So he hadn't moved her hands that night. Not that she was looking at the scars. Even if she was. He could tell she was just looking at him.

And he was her.

Renee had mostly just held him under that water. And he'd held her.

And maybe Jack cried. And maybe she more than likely knew. But the tears were hidden somewhere in that water and steam. Visible and invisible.

And he remember that they kissed. And they touched.

And she'd said she wanted him. She hadn't said that before. Not in that way.

And somehow in that moment it made him feel less broken too. Wanted. Needed. Even with the scars. And the baggage. Shared and individual.

And now they were here. Tangled in sheets. And still naked. The longest they'd likely ever stayed naked like that together too.

And Jack knew they'd been staring at each other. He knew there'd been smiles. And laughter. And giggles. And labored panted breathing and gasping breathes and racing hearts. Music from some playlist that Renee had streaming from while she was cleaning whispering out of a speaker down below them in the 'living room'.

Like they were some sort of scene out of a soft porn, melodramatic, sappy music video. A love story that was really a bloody thriller – crime drama – to those that knew them. One with a happy ending? He hoped. Maybe. But he still didn't know how this would all play out.

Just like Jack still didn't know how they got there. So how the fuck could he know where they were going? Or how to even get there?

"OK," Renee said at his 'hmm' non-noise. Her fingers still played up around where his jaw joint was by his ear. "You want to tell me about the big job tour instead?"

Jack offered her a little smile at that – her acceptance of the non-no 'no'. She heard him. And he found her eyes. But he shrugged.

"Don't really know what to say about it."

Her fingers moved down to his shoulder and bicep. He could feel her nails tracing little patterns ever so lightly. Like she was planning out the next outline for a future tattoo on that arm. But for now it was like she was playing dot-to-dot with his freckles.

"I think it sounds like a really, really awesome opportunity, Jack," she said. "Did it look as good as it sounded?"

He just made another little sound and shrugged some more. And she offered him a little smile – that was clearly a frown.

"You're allowed to be excited about it," she mouthed at him quietly. "I am."

"It's just likely not the right time. You know?" he said.

Renee shook her head. "I don't. What's ever a right time? What's not right about right now?"

And he sighed. "I don't know. Like everything."

"But if it will help make you happier than you've been …" she said. And stared at him. With those eyes.

God. He could get lost in those eyes. Wells. Black holes pulling him into her orbit.

It was like … she was one of the first people he met that had eyes like his. Haunted. But pulling a curtain in front of that as much as possible for those who didn't actually know them. But trying so hard to find the spark to dance in them again. And sometimes he saw the spark – the sparkle and the twinkle in them. Sometimes he knew that he was the reason that that spark sparked up. Just like he knew she sometimes drew that twinkle out of his too. And she saw it – and smiled. Glowed – at him. Fuck he fought for that glow.

He was trying so hard to make sure that curtain stayed up for her. That the sparks ignited enough that there was light back there for her.

So he exhaled again. "Yea," he muttered. "But what if it just fucks up my relationships more. With Jamin and my family. And you …"

Her nails traced some more. "As someone who's dealt with – who still struggles with – depression, I think I can say that you being so unhappy all the time is more likely to fuck up all your relationships."

He allowed her a quiet sound and rested his head against the pillow looking at her. "I'm going to get my meds adjusted," he said. "I'm working on it."

"I know," she mouthed. "But anxiety medication isn't going to make you happy, Jack."

He sighed at her. And felt her finger's movement on his skin. There. Present.

"Well … what was the verdict? Would you be in Poughkeepsie or Queens?"

"I don't know," he said. "Kinda both. Sometimes. I guess. It wouldn't be one of the other. Not right away."

Renee made a listening sound of some kind of acknowledgement. "Flushing isn't so far," she said almost like she was talking to herself – staring at where her fingers were drawing on his skin too. But then her eyes jointed his line of sight. "You wouldn't even really have to move if you didn't want to."

"I guess," Jack said. "I'd hafta think about it a bit. If I took it. I mean … it's likely cheaper out there."

"And you don't like this place," Renee said.

"Yea, but I like being in the city," he provided.

"But you'd been on the same side of the river as your family," she countered.

"Mmm," he allowed and rolled his head against the pillow some more. "Yea. But I think it's like farther actually. And here you're like … you know … walking distance."

She allowed him a thin smile at that. But no real comment.

"Poughkeepsie is probably way cheaper," she said.

Jack shrugged. "Maybe. Likely."

"What was it like? Was it nice?" she asked and really looked into his eyes.

But he only shrugged again. "I don't know. I was basically looking at it out a window. The workshop is closer to Hyde Park."

"Roosevelt …," she muttered lost in some kind of thought. "Hyde Park on the Hudson."

"Yea …," he acknowledged.

Her eyes found his again. "I was thinking maybe we should get a car share in the morning and go back up there. Take a real look around."

Renee looked at him expectantly. Jack cocked his head at her a bit – taking her in.

"Why?"

She shrugged. "To get a feel for it," she said. "We could do a drive around Flushing too, if we had time."

"Nee … you aren't seriously going to move to Poughkeepsie with me. Just like I'm not seriously going to take a job that's outside the city."

"I'd seriously like to help you figure out how to let yourself be happy, Jack," she said. "How to find happiness."

And he made a sound at that and stared a little beyond her. Off at the wall not so far away in that upper little loft that held his mattress. That seemed to be getting some actual real use lately. For like the first time ever since he'd moved in there.

"What?" Renee pressed at him.

His eyes found hers again. "Mom basically said our relationship is some kind of pet project for you. I'm fucked up. You have to find a solution to help me fix that. And you pretty much just confirmed that."

Her hand dropped away from his skin when he said it. She stared at him a bit. Almost a glare. But Jack couldn't read the emotion in her eyes. The curtain was down. Dropped like a sandbag had just been cut away from keeping it forced in place.

Or maybe they actually didn't know each other that well. If he couldn't even get a read on that look that was right there in front of him.

"Is that how you feel?" she finally said.

And Jack shrugged. "I hadn't. But now it's kinda on replay in my head. It's not like it doesn't make sense."

Renee stared at him. "Yeah, it makes a lot of sense that I want you to be happy," she said with some force.

"I meant it makes sense what Olivia said," he grumbled.

And the stare turned into a glare. "And couldn't you say the same thing right back to her?" she put to him. "About adopting you as an adult? And being in a relationship with Brian? And even how and why she ended up as Benji's and Emily's mom?"

Jack made an amused noise. "Yea. Truth. And that's depressing." He rolled his head against the pillow some and stared up at the ceiling. "So maybe she's speaking from experience. Calling it how she sees it. She does that."

"And maybe I'm calling it how I see it and saying Olivia's being a bit of a hypocrite," Renee said bluntly.

He made another little amused noise and rotated his head to look at her.

He definitely could tell that time her look depicted she as a little pissed. He rolled back to his side and touched her arm but she recoiled slightly from it. Jack sighed at her.

"I know you kinda hated I used the 'L' word," he said.

She glared at him. "I didn't hate it, Jack," she pressed at him. "It was awkward. I wasn't expecting you to say it. Especially not when you did. And we were kind of in a … stupidly intense intimate moment. We couldn't exactly have any kind of conversation about it right then. It took me off-guard. I was under you. You were inside me, Jack. It was just …" she shook her head at him.

"I know," he exhaled. "But … it's seriously how I feel. I love you."

"Jack …," she sighed. And he again noted that she still hadn't said it back to him. Not ever. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But he kept her eyes – and tried not to show how much the waiting to hear it back and wondering if he ever wold kinda of ached hard.

"If … if I'm just some project you can't let go of," he pressed out painfully. "Or I'm just like this person you feel like you need to fix and feel bad about telling me it's not going to work—"

"Jack, I don't know if it's going to work," Renee pressed right back. "I've told you that. You need to do a lot of work. I need to do a lot of work too. We need to do a bunch of work together. I am willing to do that – to try – because I have feelings for you too. I mean, with what I've gone through do you seriously think I'm …"

She just shook her head at him and glared off over his shoulder – back off into the living space beyond and below them. The nothingness below them they were trying to hide from. No safety net?

Jack stared at her and tried to figure out what to say or do. He finally leaned in and pressed a little kiss against her hairline and scooted a bit closer to her, wrapping his arms around her a bit. She let him. But her body language was still tense – annoyed, pissed off and just hurt.

"Sorry," he said. He was. He always felt like he was just fucking everything up. With everyone. Maybe most especially with her. He felt lost sometimes it trying to know how to do this. Any of it. Live. Exist. Connect.

Renee exhaled a bit. But that was it. It didn't matter he waited for her to say or do more. She didn't.

"You'd seriously move to Poughkeepsie?" Jack asked after a while. "If I took the job?"

Renee just shrugged in his embrace.

"You won't even move in here with me," he said with some genuine confusion. "Or go look at that place I found in the Upper West Side …"

Renee shrugged again. And now Jack wasn't sure it was a shrug or more of a slouch to try to get out of his grip. But if it was she didn't squirm more or push him away.

"I'm working through and thinking about my own stuff too, Jack," she said. "About this relationship and about my job and my own level of happiness and sanity. My career and life and future."

"That didn't really answer the question."

She sighed hard at him and found his eyes. "I'd seriously like to go see what this town looks like," she said. "And I'd seriously like us both to just be … happier, Jack. Whether that's together or apart."

He allowed her a weak smile at that. But it kinda hurt a lot.

"I guess a drive tomorrow could be nice," he said. She gave him a bit of a look. Wrong answer? So "You staying over or we need to take another shower?" he attempted in a weak tease.

Renee did roll her eyes at him a bit that time and pushed at his shoulder. He further loosened his embrace and gave her some more space.

"I was kinda surprised to find you here," he said. "And that we did this … here … again," he added with a little gesture at their mutual nakedness. "Not that I'm complaining …"

That got a bigger eye roll but she also rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling just above them.

"I kind of like it up here," she said. "It feels … safe."

Jack stared at her as he tried to process the real meaning of it. If she just meant the loft the mattress was in? Or she meant his upper floor walk-up? Or if she meant up there with him generically?

"The kids like it up here too," was what he said, though. They did. They kinda loved it. In-house playground and escape from the prying eyes of the world. It'd kind of been the inspiration when he designed and drafted and helped build the elevated bedding set up in the kids' room. "Especially Jamin. It's like a turret in a castle for them. Treehouse or something." But he paused. "Not that they've been over in forever."

"He's immuno-compromised," Renee said. "I spent the day in and out of shelters that are cleaner. Olivia wouldn't let him in here right now."

"Ah," Jack said with his own eyeroll at the ceiling. "That's why the place smells like artificial evergreen and Lysol? Nursing home or funeral home?"

That got a mildly amused sound from her and she rotated her head to look at him. "I did find a dead mouse behind your fridge. So it really did smell like something died in here, Jack."

"One – gross," Jack said. "And two – why the fuck are you moving my refrigerator, woman? Mighty Mouse," he added giving her bicep a little pinch.

Renee really was kind of ripped. There was a reasonable chance she could press more than him. He knew for a fact that – before … their break – she could definitely dance around him in kick-boxing or Mauy Thai class. And grapple up to ring the bell faster than him on the more challenging courses. And Cross Fit … just leave it at she was a beast.

Renee rolled her head to examine him. "Is Olivia going to need your help tomorrow with Brian being away?"

He shrugged. "She said not."

Renee made a little sound. "I guess maybe we should stick around, though, in case. Do the road trip another day."

"I guess …," Jack allowed weakly. Because another day kinda sounded like never, which was pretty much what he thought it would be all along.

"Did they tell you how long you have to think about it? Taking the job?"

"There wasn't really like a real timeline. But I think they'll be kinda of expecting to hear something from me by like next Monday. They said to like take the time talk it through with my family," he said. "Call if I had more questions or wanted to come back in."

Renee made a listening sound. "It'd be hard to go up next weekend too, I guess, with the holiday."

"Yea," Jack allowed and stared at the ceiling too. "Is Tara goin' home for the holiday?"

Renee allowed a little exhale. "She was talking about it before but now the girlfriend isn't. So I no idea what she's – they're – doing. She floated having a Friends-Giving too with people over. But I don't think I want to be spending much time there if they're both there. Or a bunch of her acquaintances that I barely know."

"So your talk with her about the Fuck Fest went well …," Jack muttered.

"I got attitude about the amount of time you used to be over," Renee said. "Which I suppose is fair."

"Only we didn't sound like a porn was filming next door," Jack said.

"According to Tara, we're louder than we think," she said.

"Ah, then she likely needs to get her hearing checked," Jack said.

Renee offered him a little smile but shrugged. "I'm not close enough with her to clarify what she was or wasn't hearing. But I'll give her that even for what we didn't do – we were … are … pretty good at what we do."

Jack grinned a little. "Yea?" Because he still wasn't super sure she was getting much out of it. He wanted to think she was. But he also was … pretty self-conscious about his abilities and (lack of) know-how.

Renee found his hand and laced her fingers with his. "You're pretty good with your hands, Mr. Architect. And I'd say that gave us a pretty good foundation to build on now."

He smiled wryly at the flattery. Even if he knew it wasn't entirely true. Or she was just being nice. But he still leaned in again and found her lips and enjoyed the gentle but lingering kiss. Then he rested back on his side again to stare at her. And she him.

"You know you're really more of a carpenter at heart, right, Jack?" she said.

He shrugged. "We going to do some tool talk?" he said sarcastically.

Renee lightly swapped him against the chest but then looked him in the eyes. "I'm serious. Jack, you always seem the happiest when you're building things. Working with tools and wood."

"Wood …," he mouthed immaturely.

She sighed with clear annoyance at him and rolled her eyes. But he just squeezed at her hand and shook it a little until she looked at him again.

"What's your point?" he asked gently.

"That maybe Parkitects makes sense, Jack," she pressed at him. "Building park spaces, playgrounds. A company that has a workshop?"

He shrugged at her. "Maybe."

She exhaled again. "Or maybe you should just …," She sighed again and looked at him hard. "You seem way happier and more yourself – you – when you come home from a shift at Funky's, Jack. Maybe you should seriously consider that. Just … see if Gecko would let you go full-time in the workshop for a while. Maybe you can get some more experience running a store or the kid's programs and you could open your own shop."

He tilted his head at her. "After seven years of school? That's kind of a waste."

"Not if it lets you be you," she said.

"Me being me – the twenty-six-year-old skater boy in a family full of cops and with a girlfriend the crisis counsellor? It's just not an option."

"It is if it makes you happy," she stressed at him again.

He sighed at her and stared by her a bit. It was a while. She started tracing on his skin again while he thought. And he tried not to think too. Because that was a hard reality to think about. Wants and truths versus responsibility and reality. And own self-worth and just how the fuck to measure that. Your happiness against societal expectations. Familial expectations.

"You know you can hang out where whenever you want," Jack told her. It was easier to comment on than his own reality.

"I know," Renee allowed. "But you're really going to have to do something with the place if you really want that to happen."

"Or I take the job," he said. Because taking the job seemed like a better falsehood to cling to then this talk about digging in at Gecko's for the long haul. "And we get a place in Flushing—"

"Or Poughkeepsie," Renee raised an eyebrow at him.

Jack shrugged. She'd bit. He'd stick on that track.

"I think it'd likely mostly be in Flushing. I mean … if we're together or not … that likely makes the most sense. With family and as a base for the kind of work I'd mostly be doing. Go up the Hudson when I needed to sorta thing. Day here and there or whatever."

"Hmm …," Renee allowed. "So I guess it really depends on how much you want to be working with your hands."

He allowed a quiet amused sound. The double-entendre about where the workshop for building the play structures actually was and where she might actually be.

"Yea. If we're together …," he said.

Her hand went back to what it'd been downing against his cheek and with his hair.

"You know what you need to do for that to happen in the immediacy," she said.

"I'm working on it," Jack stressed again.

He was. But it was a slog. He was trying. It just hurt. And it really felt like inch by inch. Step forward and step back. When he felt like he needed to be rushing headlong into this to try to full on tackle this and gain some ground. Get some proof up on the scoreboard to prompt her to stay and keep on working on all this with him. While he tried to fucking work on himself.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**So out of the handful of comments and feedback I got, it seemed like people wanted a Jack debrief. I know some of you hate Jack chapters since he's not a character from the show. But some of you love Jack. So hopefully the haters bear with it. Because there's also going to be a continuation of this chapter. I ended up splitting it since it was getting long. The second half should be posted tomorrow (maybe under the 24 hour mark — so you might want to check since it doesn't bump if there's two posts in a 24 hour period).**

**The chapter after the conclusion of this conversation will jump ahead a few days to Benji's treatment day. It will be a Liv POV. And will likely include a few characters above and beyond her and Benji. Depending on how it writes.**

**Reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated and motivational. And look … sometimes they're even followed up on … for those of you who wanted a Jack follow-up chapter after the last chapter. In the very least, they're all considered.**


	32. Friends with Benefits

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

*****THIS CHAPTER IS A CONTINUATION OF CHAPTER 31 (DEBRIEF). THEY WERE POSTED LESS THAN 24 HOURS APART. PLEASE GO BACK AND CHECK THAT YOU DIDN'T MISS IT*****

*********************RATING WARNING: The end of this chapter contains M-rated content. It's starting point will be marked with an asterisks.*****************************

"Did Benji warm up to you any more?" Renee asked.

Jack exhaled a bit and stared at her for a long beat. Good fucking question. But a hard one. It wasn't like spending time with Jamin had been a complete disaster but it hadn't exactly be a fucking sweet-ass time either. It was mostly having an eleven-year-old tell him off for like four hours straight. And then Olivia telling him that he deserved it.

"I don't know," Jack muttered. "He kinda hates my guts right now."

"He doesn't hate your guts …," Renee rolled her eyes a little.

"The kid completely sprayed me with high velocity foam bullets – in close range. I was on his fucking team," Jack said.

She just smiled. Like smiled so much he could tell she was trying not to laugh. And that just made him kinda shake his head at her. Clear who's side she was one before Renee even spoke.

"That just sounds like something pretty funny to do your big brother," she said.

"Right," Jack rolled his eyes back at her.

Yea. He loved her but she could be a fucker. But he also knew that's part of the reason he loved her – that he felt close to her. Renee didn't pull too many punches with him. She just kinda said things like she saw it. Sort of like Olivia. Which maybe was weird. Or gross …?

"Keep working at it," Renee said, giving his bicep a squeeze that time.

"Yea …," Jack allowed.

They stared at each other some more. Through the dim light. It was kind of like time stood still up there. Hidden away. Their safe place. Like they could say this kind of shit and have these kinds of talks up there in the little cubby loft. Off and away and hidden from sight from the rest of the world. Only visible to each other. But so there.

"He told me he's going to be a Fire Investigator so he'll be a scientist-firefighter with a gun," Jack said.

Renee grinned widely at that. The laugh was underneath it too. Jack appreciated that. He'd sort of laughed at it when Jamin said it too. Because what the fuck? Seriously. But it also kind of broke his heart a bit too. Because … seriously? What kind of job could a kid with lupus have? Some desk job. Not some run into burning buildings with guns blazing job. Not that he was going to be the one to tell Jamin that. Then he'd be the real asshole. Olivia or Brian could take the hit on that one when they broke the news to the kid.

Not that Jack thought they were in any kind of hurry to have those kinds of conversations with Ben either. He was pretty sure the two of them were barely holding it together despite the kind of united front and strong face they were presenting. Jack sort of thought even with the distance he'd kept at lately – he still knew them both well enough to see through that act. And it'd been pretty easy to see through that morning. Mom and Brian just looked … broken.

It kind of reminded him of that first week Mom got home. The week that turned into months. Just these like ghosts of who they'd been. Or statues. Lifeless even though they were still moving and breathing. They weren't all there. Everything was just kind of going through the motions. And even then for a while it didn't feel like they even were. Or Mom was. She was in bed. In the dark. And it wasn't off in some hidden cubby like this. It was in plain sight. The mom they'd had was gone and sometimes Jack still felt like years later he was still trying to get to know the person that had come back. She was different and sometimes he didn't really feel like he knew her or understood her or liked her as much as the Olivia his dad had fallen in love with and never gotten over.

"That sounds pretty bad ass," Renee said.

"More like intimidating," Jack mumbled. "My baby nephew the firefighter with a gun. I don't know how to relate to that."

"Jack …," she sighed at him.

"And me … aspiration number one … build skateboards and skate parks."

Renee tapped him lightly in the chest again. "C'mon, Jack. Look at who his parents are, what they do. They're pretty bad ass. He wants to be a bad ass. It makes sense."

"And I still don't know how to relate to that," Jack said.

"What?" Renee pressed at him. "Because Ben's not all into skating anymore, he's un-relatable?"

"Pretty much," Jack agreed.

"Jack, he still only gives me side-eye and speaks in muttered whispers under his breath that I can hardly hear, and I can _still_ tell he's a pretty amazing little dude whether he skateboards or not. He's funny and witty and sarcastic. And smart. Kind of like someone I know … when he wants to be."

Jack gave her some serious side-eye. It earned a gentle slap against his arm.

"Seriously. It's like he wants to make sure we have nothing in common," he told her.

"Only you do," Renee said pointedly. Jack just eyed her – sans side-eye. "Art. Drawing. Jack, he loved that comic class you took him and Emmy to in the spring. You did too. You talked about it all the time."

"Only – I hate comics," Jack said. "And super heroes and Marvel bullshit."

"Who cares?" Renee stressed at him. "You know how to draw. You love to draw. You can share that with him. Teach him. Do it together."

Jack just shook his head. "He doesn't want to. It's like he wants to make sure that I know I know shit - in his opinion."

"You're making this harder than it needs to be again," she said to him pointedly. "Who cares he's not as into skateboarding as you? He's still into sports. He's good at them – like you. You know how to skate, Jack. You can shoot a basketball. Play with him."

"He does that shit with Brian," Jack muttered. "That's who he wants to do it with."

Her stare turned into a more pointed glare. "No, he doesn't. He loves to play – just like you love to skate. Again, Jack, he … hardly likes me—"

"He likes you," Jack mumbled half-heartedly. Even if it was maybe a sort of lie. He didn't really get the impression that Jamin liked Renee all that much. But Jamin sort of didn't seem to like anyone all that much. Until he got to know them but he made it super hard to get to know him. Maybe that was something they did have in common. Rah for life-changing trauma and baggage created by shitty moms and abusive grown men.

"Hardly," Renee said. "But he still let me play basketball with him – and Emmy, who is at least as bad as me at it. And he let us play – because he likes to play. He wants to play. So play with him."

Jack just sighed at her and looked at her. But she shook her head with some annoyance.

"Invite him to things, Jack. Both of them. Kids remember the people who are there for them. And they remember who isn't. They hold onto it. I know we both do."

He shrugged at her.

"The parkour and Ninja Kid classes they do aren't so different from grappling, Jack. Take them to a climbing gym. Invite them out for lunch. Get them something their parents wouldn't usually let them order. Play a boardgame with him. Take him to a Nerf battle again or laser tag or paintball or whatever. Give them a few hours each week. It doesn't have to be all day or your whole weekend. They just need to know you're around. That's having a relationship with them."

Jack exhaled. "He doesn't want a relationship with me right now."

"He wants a relationship with you," Renee pressed. "That's why you're getting all this attitude from him. It's because you had a relationship with him. He misses it. You hurt him. He's … making sure you know that. He's making sure you feel some of the hurt too. He's a little boy. He's … testing you. He's making sure … this is real this time. That you aren't going to let him down again."

"Well, I'm fucking trying and he's making sure I know who King Shit is in his life. And it's Brian. Brian knows everything. Is everything to him right now."

"He's his dad," Renee rolled her eyes. "He's eleven. Brian's still a super hero to him."

"He quotes Mom like the fucking Gospel according to Olivia too," he muttered. "Anything they say … goes."

"They're his parents," Renee stressed. "He's still a little kid for another bit. And they're kind of strict. Olivia and Brian are kind of intimidating people. I'm leery of authority – and I'd listen to them. I did listen to Olivia."

"They should likely be a little less intimidating and easier to ignore what they say when you see them playing narwhal and having full-on kitchen dance parties to fucking Girl Power anthems with made-up dance moves," he muttered.

Renee smiled a bit but looked at him. "Don't act like you weren't intimidated by Olivia or Brian when you first met them. Or aren't now still sometimes – and that isn't part of why you put off talking to them about some things."

He sighed at her again. But just stared at her – and her calling him out on that reality. Even if he wasn't going to verbally admit it.

But – fact – Olivia was probably one of the most intimidating people he'd met in his life. And even though in some ways she wasn't anymore – there were also a lot of ways she still was. And it was more fucking complicated now because he worried about what she thought. And how she was going to express that opinion.

And then other shit. Like how she'd barely batted an eye when he disclosed to her that night. Like she knew. Or she was just so used to dealing with that shit. Or was desensitized. Or it wasn't that big of deal? Or she always just knew how to fucking deal with this shit so much better than him. Which just made him feel like another fuck up.

Add it to the list of things that her, Brian, his Dad, the Captain – likely even Renee – had more together and in order and maturity about at twenty-five than he did.

"And see … that just …," Jack shook his head. "Yea. They're intimidating. And they're fucking ball busters. Like anything I say right now is some kind of 'when we were twenty-five' conversation. Like all bow down to them. Gen Xer superiority complex …"

"There. Exactly," Renee said. "It's a different generation. Who cares if they're comparing you to them? It's not comparable. The world's changed. You – we, all of us – aren't them."

"Yea. But they still fucking make me feel infantile. And, seriously. Forget Mom and Brian. By twenty-five – my dad was done school, working, married and had two kids."

"Really?" Renee pressed at him directly. "What about the part where he couldn't hack New York? Moved back home and was living with his parents? Or started working in the family business that had absolutely nothing to do with his degree? Or not knowing if either of the kids he was raising were even his? And the woman he married was cheating on him and just up and left him – and HER KIDS? That sounds like a really great situation to be in by twenty-five, Jack. That's seriously what you want to aspire to?"

He sighed at her and rested his head on the pillow. "Mom and Brian were through school, through the Academy, on the job, almost had their shields. Like, fuck, Renee, they were basically together when they were our age."

"Not quite," she rolled her eyes. "They were … whatever … that's their business, and Jack, who cares? They were in their forties before they were actually, really together. Before they started a family. Before they got married. Before they started moving up in the ranks – beyond detective. So what does it matter what they accomplished by twenty-five? All their shit is still just falling into place now and it's not like it's exactly perfect or easy or some sort of fantasy either."

He just exhaled and stared at her. "I still don't get what she sees in him. Like what's he got that my dad didn't have."

"Likely like twenty years," Renee said. "That Olivia wasn't like nineteen, twenty-years-old anymore and not ready for a serious relationship."

"Brian was like twenty-eight, twenty-nine when they were fucking …," Jack muttered.

"Exactly," Renee pressed. "They were just hooking up back then. It wasn't like a relationship. It's not what they have now."

"And what the fuck do the have now? I mean, what do they even have in common? Seriously?"

Renee shrugged a little. "Likely a foundation, Jack," she said. "The job, the kids. I mean, I've seen them talk and interact. You can see in their eyes and body language that whatever they do or don't have in common - that they really care. "

"We've got foundation," Jack said. "Real real shit in common …"

"I don't want to be them, Jack," Renee looked him direct in the eyes.

He sighed a little at that. It wasn't like he wanted to be them either. But he also didn't want to be like Olivia and his dad either. He didn't want to be the guy who never got over someone. And he just didn't want to be like Olivia and like so flawed or damaged or whatever that he was like fifty when he found someone. He kind of felt like he'd found his someone.

"I sort of think that sometimes you feel like you can't see what Olivia or Brian see in each other – or what they have in common – because you see too much of yourself in both of them, Jack …," she said quietly.

He rolled his eyes a little at that and his head away from her a bit – to look at something else.

"But I also think maybe what the two of them get out of each other – see in each other – is like the real person underneath. Like they know and respect that person and their pain and achievements. Just who they are."

"Yea …," Jack muttered, staring at the ceiling.

"I don't want to be them," Renee repeated. "But I see you, Jack."

He let himself look at her at that. Let himself see her too.

"You went from a farming village to an went to an amazing university in an amazingly elite program on full scholarship, Jack," Renee said. "In one of the hardest cities in the world to make it in. You got a Masters' degree and your architecture licencing. You've gotten to travel to other states in this country. Way more than a lot of us. You've interned on some world-class projects. You've been selected for competitive programs. You're working at an internationally-regarded architecture firm. You're being head-hunted. You've managed to hold down at least two long-term relationships – even if they weren't fairy tales – and you haven't gotten anyone pregnant in the process. But you do have a family who loves you – after coming here with no support. I'd say you've accomplished a lot by twenty-five. Who cares if you don't know what you're doing or where you're going? Who does?"

"You," he said.

She snorted at him. "You haven't noticed I'm as lost as you?"

He shrugged but found her hand and laced his fingers with hers. "Maybe. But it always seems like you've got a better compass than me in figuring how to navigate through it all."

Renee gave him a weak smile at that and stared at their hands – and fingers. She flexed hers in his. Holding on. And sometimes Jack really felt like he held onto her – kept a hold of his hand – in the hopes that her sense of direction might help him through his own maze.

"Anyway," he whispered a little – trying to get beyond all that. "Olivia said we're both welcome there for Thanksgiving. So that came out of the talk. And, I guess, saves you from Tara's Friends-Giving."

"I definitely didn't get the impression I was invited to the Friends-Giving," Renee said.

Jack laughed quietly at that and shrugged at her. "Too bad. Cuz it might be more bearable than what my family does."

"Oh, yeah," she dripped with sarcasm. "What utterly unbearable things does your family do for Thanksgiving?"

He shrugged. "Ah, they pretty much do nothing, which is pretty much unbearable."

It got another light little smack out of her.

He gave her a thin smile. "Seriously, though, that makes it a long day. You'll basically get to watch Brian watch sports. Probably the Neanderthal League."

"I like football," Renee said.

Jack cocked his head at her – with a small eyeroll. He knew she liked football. He'd had to watch enough of it with her. It was background noise almost every Sunday he spent with her during the season. He'd give that it was more bearable than watching it with Brian and Jamin. And sometimes it involved chicken wings when it was with Renee – also making it much more bearable. But it was still fucking Neanderthal Bowl.

"If we're super lucky we'll get to watch Jamin and Emmy argue about who's turn it is to play which character some Lego super hero puzzle videogame that the both royally suck at. BUT – you will not be allowed to help them. You MIGHT be allowed to make a jump for Emmy. But that's it. Don't fucking dear try to do anything else beyond hit the landing."

Renee smiled. Like really smiled at that and set her head down on the pillow to sparkle at him some. Her hair splayed just fucking right. Looking all perfect around her face.

"Olivia will eventually get sick of the arguing – or the tears about the fucking game. So she'll claim they've exceeded their screen-time allocation and pull up some fucking absurd Thanksgiving craft on Pinterest and tell them they should be making this shit for everyone. And, guess what? We'll be assigned to refereeing that mess."

"Awesome …," Renee mouthed with the smile still there.

"You say that now but after you see the daycare level of art and craft supplies they pull out …"

"Oh, I saw," she said. "Ben had a bunch of stuff out while we were working on his restaurant project. It was pretty impressive."

"You will be significantly less impressed when you're the one stuck cleaning it up," Jack muttered. "But it will give you a front and center seat on the real show: Mom and Brian's mom having passive aggressive conversations in the kitchen about what constitutes Thanksgiving dinner. Because that's apparently not a discussion to have like … weeks before the meal. And then it's who's cooking what, who's using what utensils and pots and what counter and stove and oven space. And who just can actually cook anything that's edible. And I can already tell you the answer – this year, since Alex isn't coming – it's all going to be subpar and probably not hundred-percent worth going over for."

Renee allowed a small grin. "You know I'm a good cook?"

"You are a fantastic cook," Jack agreed. She was actually probably more of a baker. But he wasn't going to argue semantics.

"So maybe I can join that cooking show."

"Oh, that sounds like a fantastically bad idea," he said. "But maybe a good appetizer to Ben and Em arguing about what the first animated Christmas special of the season will be. Answer: before cartoons are allowed to be begin Miracle on 34th St. must be watched. Apparently. Where Olivia insists we watch the black and white version. That will be followed by twenty or so minutes of huffing and whining from the kids before Brian loses his patience and puts in the old school '90s reboot, which is potentially worse than the one from the '40s."

"This sounds awful," she said sarcastically.

"It gets better. Then you can watch him and Olivia bicker about that switcheroo. And – if we stay long enough, they'll enviably put in Planes, Trains and Automobiles. And the only decent part of the evening is pretending that you don't know how Steve Martin is. And watching Olivia take the bait – every fucking year."

"Can't wait …," Renee whispered quietly.

But Jack sighed a little and stared at her. "Nee, seriously, though - it's not my favorite holiday."

"Jack, compared to what I've known – it sounds …" she shook her head a bit and shrugged, "like a really nice day."

He frowned. "Maybe. But it's also just kind of like Mom just invites everyone who doesn't really have a place to go and calls it family."

"Oh, you mean she has her projects over to work on fixing?" Renee said – the sarcasm was still there.

Jack smiled a little at that and traced a finger along her shoulder and arm. Her skin was so soft and almost fragile feel to it. It was weird because he could also feel how much muscle she had just under the flesh. But that was kind of Renee. A lot more than she appeared to be on the surface.

"This year might be a little weirder than usual. Like people I'm not as close with or really know much might show. Barba. Munch. And if Jamin isn't feeling great after his treatment or gets a spinal fluid leak or whatever. Guess he could be feeling pretty sick, Mom said. Like bad headache and puking and shit."

"So, you mean, he might like having his uncle there to distract him and support him if he's feeling like that," Renee said. "His parents might too."

"They look wrecked," Jack said flatly.

"I noticed," Renee allowed.

He gazed at her. "Brian looks like he's spending any free-time he's getting in a gym hitting something."

"Been there," she said. "You have too."

Jack sighed a little. "There was kind of a lot of alcohol around the place. Beer, wine. Vodka."

Renee allowed a little shrug. "They are hosting Thanksgiving, Jack, and it sounds like this week is going to be insane for them. They might've just stocked early."

"Maybe …," he muttered. "I thought Olivia looked kinda … like pale and puffy. Compared to the last time I saw her."

"She just seemed exhausted to me," Renee said.

Jack exhaled some. He tried to exhale some of his worries and anxieties out along with it.

"They're trying to convince Munch to live in the garden unit downstairs," he said.

"Does that bother you?" she asked.

Jack exhaled again. And shrugged. "I'm not sure how I feel about it. I think all of it will definitely make for a weirder dynamic on Thursday, though. I think … they're both taking it real hard that he's sick."

Renee made a sound of acknowledgement. "I'm glad we're invited, though …"

Jack attempted a smile but he could tell from her face it failed.

"You don't want me to come," she stated. Jumped all the way to that conclusion.

"It's not that," he sighed. And stopped and stared at her. And he then sighed harder. "Thanksgiving is a super loaded day for me. And Jamin. And I guess Mom – Olivia."

Her fingers locked more firmly in his and she stared at him like he was going to disclose more about … Greg. Something awful and telling and some gapping wound. Supposed at least she was right about the gapping wound if that's what she was thinking.

"Thanksgiving is when I pretty much officially made my choice, or screw-up depending on how you look at it, that sort of set the ball rolling on Olivia getting guardianship and then custody of Ben," he said flatly and reached to squeeze at the bridge of his nose.

He could feel Renee staring at him. She didn't really understand. But he'd never really gone into any detail before. Jack sighed and shook his head.

"It's a real long story," he said. "Like a novel. The short version is … I couldn't take care of him. Not the way he needed and with me still trying to do school and live in this city. And things hit a breaking point. He was in a cast. Post-concussion. I was working like 30-hour weeks at Funky's. It was end of term. Projects and essays due. Exams coming up. Trying to make rent and keep my scholarship. Make grades."

"I hear you …," she mouthed gently.

"Yea, only then I'm supposed to be doing that and taking care of Jamin. And I couldn't," he said. "I lost my cool. And I left him. Like just left him – again. Because apparently me leaving him on the farm so I could runaway from that shit life wasn't enough."

"That's an over-simplification …" she said softly.

Jack just flared his nostrils a bit. "Yea, maybe. But I go back for him – drag him here and can fucking barely keep my head above water. Drowning after all of like three months. And lose it. And leave him on her doorstep – outside her fucking building. Crying. In the dark. In the middle of the night."

And he could still feel Renee staring at him. He could tell her eyes were glassing a bit when he said it. He could like feel her perspective of him changing. Judgement more than like processing. And he sighed and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

"Yea. I'm a monster," Jack whispered. His voice cracked a bit.

"That wasn't what I was thinking," Renee said. "And that's the guilt and trauma and self-loathing talking again, Jack …"

"Maybe. But it definitely was an asshole thing to do."

"Maybe," Renee acknowledged quietly. "But … what you just described, Jack … it's a lot. At eighteen? Nineteen?"

It hung there. He didn't know what to say. How to acknowledge it. Or how to forgive himself. He wasn't sure he ever really would. Therapy or not.

"I just was at the point I didn't know what to do anymore," he stumbled and sputtered to try to explain.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," she said. "I mean … I admitted myself to a psychiatric hospital and begged for ECT because I couldn't cope with my reality. So who am I to judge …"

"But maybe you should. Maybe need to be judged. By someone. Because I don't know. Maybe I've been at that point again for a while. Like I seriously don't know what to do." He gazed at her. "With myself. Or with what Jamin's going through. So I've pretty much just left him again. Olivia's said it. That shit that's going on with him is stirring stuff up in him. And like regression. That he remembers more than I think about all that. That he pretty much feels abandoned by me again."

"You haven't been around much for him, Jack …," Renee said softly and evenly. "Or really … anyone. Me … This fall … you've been kind of checked out."

He felt his eyes glass a bit at that. The reality … he hadn't just hurt Jamin. He'd hurt her.

"Even Jamin said almost as much to me today," he exhaled. "That I just runaway – check out - when the goin' gets tough. And pretty much said he's ashamed of me. Ashamed to have to tell people that I'm his uncle or older 'brother' or whatever. Because I'm pretty much a chicken shit. And he's a bad ass."

"I don't think Benji would've said that," Renee said.

"Close enough," Jack muttered. And rotated his head to look at her. She offered him a weak attempt at an understanding smile and rubbed at his arm. "So yea. It always feels awkward at Thanksgiving. I never really feel comfortable there. I feel like everyone is remembering shit. At least I am. And I mostly just feel a lot of guilt and self-loathing."

Renee examined him. "You could try feeling thankful."

He snorted a bit at that.

"I think maybe your mom and Ben are thankful," she said. "When you get to the other side of all of what you said, because I think maybe Ben and Olivia think more about it as being when he got a mom and she got a son."

Jack sighed at her. "That's Olivia's line. That she chooses to be thankful for what came out of that uber shitty day. Night. Whatever."

Renee shrugged. "Sometimes you have to do that, Jack. Sometimes it's just easier to try to find the positive. If we don't it's sort of like all the bad – the negative and its instigators – win. We have to choose not to let them win."

He exhaled at her again. "Yea, then what about holding the instigators accountable?"

She eyed him. "You weren't the instigator, Jack," she said. "More like a domino in the chain reaction that … I don't know … your biological mom or your dad or your sister or your uncle started. But … it got you and Ben to here. So that's not so bad in the end."

"Expect that we're all retraumatized every fucking year," he said.

"Only if you get some day on the calendar power, Jack," Renee said. "I mean, I could give Christmas that power. And maybe I do. It's still hard for me too. But it's also just a day. A holiday. And here and now – for you – it's a day with family. After everything you and Benji have been through – you should see that as a gift."

"Says the girl who resorted to frying her brain to try to forget," Jack muttered.

He could feel tears spring forward in her eyes again. He frowned at her – and himself.

"And it didn't work," she cracked in a slightly broken tone.

'Sorry' he mouthed at her silently.

"So I've had to … adjust how I see things and how I remember them and the power I place in that," she pressed out with staggered confident like she was trying to convince herself as much as him. "So … I'm saying … Just … maybe try to see it as … sometimes it just seems like a lot of us have to go through a lot of the bad before we get to the good. Maybe years ago Thanksgiving wasn't a shining moment for you. But maybe it was the end of a whole lot of trials for Olivia and Ben. The start of something good."

Jack pressed the heel up his hand up across his forehead. "Yea, but that's the thing too. It was the beginning of a lot of good for Jamin …," and he sighed. "He says he doesn't want me calling him that anymore. Jamin, Jammer. Just … Ben." And he pressed his hand against his skull a bit more firmly and then let it fall away to look at Renee again. And she squeezed his hand. "It's like … they have all these traditions on Thanksgiving now. The weekend. Like they've made it something else. Found the good and feel like I'm this dark reminder there."

"Like what?" Renee asked. "What do they do that's good? Focus on the good …"

Jack sighed. "Dumb shit. They go to the most random museum or touristy thing on the Friday. Like random. Ones that you probably barely even know exist in the city."

Renee smiled thinly at that. But Jack shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"And they go fucking skating. Ice skating," he clarified. "It's this police fundraiser thing for the families of fallen officers. They volunteer at it. On the Saturday, they go to one of the Christmas markets. Olivia lets them pick out an ornament for the tree even though the tree isn't even up yet. Like that's the next weekend. It's like all this just special, nice family stuff she does with them in December. Even Brian too. And his mom. These traditions and family time. Just one after another, after another. Just little, random things … but like for them and as a family …"

"This doesn't sound bad, Jack," Renee said.

"And Sunday, Thanksgiving weekend – it's Macy's. Go and look at the windows and see Santa. Not just see Santa. Olivia dresses them. Like that's something she picks up clothes for. Like every year – new sweater or flannels to go see Santa. And she pays for the fucking photo. And then they always – ALWAYS – have breakfast at the same place every year after. With hot chocolate. The kids talk about the hot chocolate at this place like it's what they serve on the fucking Polar Bear Express."

Renee gave him a sad smile. "It sounds like the kind of family holiday weekend that I thought only existed on holiday specials when I was a little girl …"

"Yea," Jack muttered. "And it never feels right when I go and be there for any of it. Not that weekend. Even most of December. But it definitely has never felt really normal – or remotely comfortable - even going over for Thanksgiving dinner."

"That's you making a choice about how you interact with it, Jack," Renee said. "How you interact with your family and … just with life."

"You're doing your social worker and crisis counsellor talk," he muttered.

She gave him a shrug. "Maybe I am. And maybe I still have to remind myself of the same things, Jack. But just because it's different than what you had – it doesn't mean it's not what Ben and Emily should have. I mean … I wish even one of my weekends – ever in my whole childhood – even looked like just one day of what you just described."

"Yea. It's not fair," he mumbled.

"They're likely just trying to … maybe give them better than they had," Renee said. "I'd want that for my kids."

"I'm never having kids," Jack muttered. But something about it hung there and he looked at Renee. Her face had changed. "What?"

She tried to shake it off. "Nothing."

"No. Seriously. What just happened there?"

She shook her head a bit. "That was just a big info bomb."

Jack squinted at her. "What?"

"That you don't want kids," she said.

Jack's eyes darted a bit as he processed that. "What?" he shook his head. "You'd seriously want bring kids into this world and life? After all the shit you've been through? After your shit parents?"

"That's kind of the point," she said. "I'm not going to be my parents."

Jack stared at her. He knew he was kind of opening and closing his mouth. But he couldn't figure out what to say. He sort of felt like he might've just fucked things up in their attempt to mend this. Like now he'd given her some kind of ammo about them being destined to fail. So why even attempt to work things out?

And maybe WHY EVEN ATTEMPT TO WORK THINGS OUT? Because … Jack seriously didn't know if he wanted kids. But he seriously was leaning toward not wanting kids.

Besides he was pretty sure he'd be a fucking shit show as a father. And he was way too fucked up to take care of anyone. Like that's why Ben was where he was. Jack could hardly look after himself. Let alone some living, breathing human being that he played a role in creating. Like even his own biological parents couldn't handle that. They'd dumped him on some random just like he'd done with Jamin. It was like it was in his genetics. Irresponsible, self-centered asshole.

"You know … I only have one ball …" he tried.

That got a glare. "Lots of human organs come in pairs for a reason, Jack. Losing a testicle doesn't mean you can't have kids."

He looked at her – taken a back a bit by her tone. There was some underlying anger there. Like … maybe she always expected him to use that argument at some point. Or … excuse …

"It doesn't matter," Renee muttered under her breath.

"It kinda sounds like it does," Jack said.

She shrugged. "My point was that Benji and Emily deserve to get to enjoy … having a real family and people who know how to be parents. Having fun holidays and family traditions and making memories. And you should let yourself enjoy it now. You deserve that too."

He stared at the ceiling. He measured if he should let her shift the topic or if he should go back to the other thing. But he sort of thought he'd fucked up that info drop as bad as the L-word drop.

"It's hard sometimes," he allowed. All of it. But he let it be where she was placing the conversation. "You're right there's a jealousy aspect. A 'why them?' You know …"

Her hand landed on his chest and against his heart. It stayed there – warm and firm and soft. Jack moved his eyes to hers.

"Because they got really lucky, Jack. They ended up in the right zip code with the right people. They got lucky. Ben and Emily. And Olivia and Brian. And his mom and Captain Cragen. And John Munch. And you. And I'd like to think now me. To know you and meet you through this group of people you connected … outside of their usual jobs and lives. You did that. Played a role in it. A kind of big one."

He stared at her. And she stared right back.

"I'm likely always going to be a little jealous of the childhood they're getting," he admitted.

Renee shrugged. "I can understand that. But I sort of feel like the secret to overcoming that is trying to enjoy the peripheral benefits. Like … you kind of get a second chance at experiencing some of those childhood things. Or at least get to experience some of it through their eyes."

He sighed at her. "You ever feel like … I don't know. It's not like just our childhood lost. Like … our teens spent just figuring out how to get out of our parents' shit shows. And then … just fucking making the grades and keeping the scholarships. And then … trying to figure out some fucking way to over …. trauma. And just … always being the person who's having to be the good. Like just get it right. Can't screw up. The boring one on the right path. And that path is so fucking winding when everyone else it just seems like they're easy riders on some joy ride."

"A little. Sometimes," Renee allowed. "But … that's also … victim mentality, Jack. And everyone comes from something – even if their something seems easier … to us. You have to make an active choice to not be a victim anymore. To not act like one. To stop wanting people to see you or treat you like one."

He exhaled and sort of looked beyond her. "And sometimes you can tell that your office and Mom's both send you guys to the same like advocacy sessions. All the same lines."

Renee just stared at him. "It's what helped me, Jack," she said. "It was really hard to adjust that headspace. Some days it's still really hard. But it's what helped me move forward. Just like talking about it helped. Being heard – feeling heard - starts to let you move away from victim and to survivor. And, you're definitely a survivor. So … stop letting yourself feel like the victim."

He sighed a little and let his eyes drift back to hers. "Olivia barely batted an eye when I disclosed to her …," he said.

Renee's hand trailed down his arm again and found his hand – holding onto it a bit tighter. "She likely already kind of knew," she said.

"I know …," Jack allowed.

"And she … deals with people disclosing to her almost every day," Renee said. "She knows how to keep the poker face. It doesn't mean she wasn't thinking and feeling … a lot."

He sighed a little and looked at his hand in hers. "Sometimes it's weird to know she knows all this … super intimate stuff about me."

"She's your mom …," Renee whispered gently.

Jack sighed and gazed at her. "But she's not."

"Close as you're going to get …"

And Jack felt his eyes ache a bit at that and he looked beyond Renee again. "Sometimes, though, it's like I feel like I don't really know her anymore."

"Yea … but it's hard. After what she went through," Renee said. "You know that. There's just … a numbness and emptiness that takes over. That you have to face in the mirror every morning. It's hard to get past that even years later …. It's lonely."

He frowned at her. "You aren't alone," he said and leaned forward and pressed a kiss just above her eye. She closed them – felt it – for a second before she opened them again and gave him a weak smile.

"It just sucks sometimes," Jack said. "I used to feel … really close to her. Like … she felt like a … friend. Almost a best friend."

"She can't be your best friend," Renee said. "It makes sense that she says Brian's her best friend. I think that's likely the way it's supposed to be. You're my best friend."

He allowed her a thin smile. "So maybe we're doing something right? Cuz you're my bestie too."

"BFFs," Renee said a little sarcastically.

But Jack smiled a bit more – or tried too. "I kinda hope so. You know …"

She gave him a thin-lipped smile back.

"Olivia's still your friend, Jack," Renee said. "I think … I don't really know but I think … like the good moms … they can be your friend but they also just have to be your mom. It's like … probably a hard line to walk."

"Yea …," he acknowledged weakly.

And they just lay there. Staring at each other and listening to the low music below. Just being. Existing.

Jack squinted a bit as he listened and then gave Renee wry grin. "Are we listening to Justin Bieber?" he teased.

Renee allowed a little sound. "Your niece and nephew were playing with my phone. They have completely screwed up what Spotify thinks I want to listen to."

Jack smiled more. "Right," he teased again. "You've got Bieber on your playlist."

"It's Ed Sheeran," Renee contended.

"I Don't Care," he pressed at her, raising an eyebrow. "He's singing with Bieber," Jack pressed at her. And did a little shuffle and shake with his hands and elbows – that was likely a close match to Em's dance skills.

It earned a little laugh out of Renee and she knocked him lightly in the center of the chest again. But he just did the little double fist pump again. And Renee smiled and did the same. They both laughed and looked at each other.

But then a phone vibrated on the nightstand next to them. Renee made a quiet noise and leaned over him – giving him a bit of an up-close and personal peek at her breasts again. It made what he still had under the sheets twitch just a little bit and it briefly crossed his mind that he could easily raise his head some and capture that nipple in his mouth. And maybe he might've if it wasn't for her elbow on his chest as she did crawl over top of him for the phone.

"Ooof," was what he managed instead.

"Sorry," Renee muttered and picked up the phone. "One of my clients is testifying on Monday. She's really anxious about it. I told her she could text me any time this weekend."

Jack made a sound of acknowledgement. "Maybe skip to the next song as you're at it."

She made a mildly amused sound. But he could see her gaze at her phone and then make a questioning noise. She picked up his phone and looked at the screen.

"It's yours," she said and settled back down next to him, handing it off.

"Mmm," he acknowledged and looked at the screen as Renee leaned against his chest and drew some circles on his abs as he held the phone above his head and started keying in a reply.

"Work?" she asked.

"It's Connie," he mumbled.

"She want you to do a shift tomorrow at Funky's?"

"Ah, dunno," Jack said. "All it said was 'You with the gf or the groms'."

"Jealous," Renee said. "Crushing on you again."

Jack snorted at that. "You know it's more a bro-mance. She's got more testro in her ovaries than my lonely ball."

Renee allowed an amused sound. "She told me she's seeing someone new," Renee muttered.

"Yea," he said. "Apparently the most awesome human being ever …"

Renee allowed another amused noise. "She was bugging me about doing a double date when I was waiting for you the other day …"

"And she still is …," Jack said and flashed the screen showing a rather drunk looking Funky's Crew equipped with ping pong paddles at Renee. "They're at Back Spin. Gamercy Park. Wants to know if wanna join."

"Mmm …," Renee muttered. "What time is it?"

"Like twelve thirty-five," he said.

Renee made another thoughtful sound and her hand moved a bit on his chest. "I guess we could …," she said. "Or we could …"

*****START OF MATURE CONTENT*****

And her hand was on his thigh. And then her fingers lightly traced to his inner thigh. And then he could tell that lonely ball in his sac was in the palm of her hand. And his breath caught a little as he looked at her. And she looked right back.

He was about to squirm to move away but before he could her hand moved on his own and he felt the just mildly rough pad of her thumb swipe gently at the head of his penis. Keeping the rest of her hand and fingers from any kind of grip or tension that he usually shrunk away from. That time he definitely didn't shrink away from the touch. Instead Jack felt his body react. And he knew she could feel it too.

He rolled a little closer to her and found her mouth. Kissing. Deeply. He could feel her tongue. He could taste her. Feel her breath. And his hand found her hip and the soft skin there. Until he let it drift down and used his own fingers to open her folds and rub their pads against her clit. Only clit play – no fingers inside her. Unless she asked. And she didn't. But she did make a quiet noise – a suck in of air as she broke away from him and stared at him. The want and need was there. Heavy in her eyes as it was between his own legs.

Jack rolled away from her for a moment, arm reaching for the nightstand. But then he let out another kind of sound of his own.

"Fuck …," he muttered.

"What?" Renee asked with some concern bubbling there.

Jack flopped on his back and looked at her apologetically. "Before. It was my last rubber. Do you have one?"

"No," she admitted.

And Jack exhaled some annoyance at himself and sexual frustration. And he stared at the ceiling for a beat.

"Hey," Renee called at him and he turned to her. "It's OK. We can still …"

He squinted at her a bit. Confused. Though, it wasn't like them manually getting each other off was anything exactly new. But it just didn't seem like that's what she meant. Not from the way her hand was still tracing at his skin. Not with the kiss she put against his chest.

"Umm …," he squirmed a little. Not sure what to say. Or what he thought about that … proposal.

Renee looked at him. "We're monogamous. We know each other's status. We're clean. Right?"

And he stared some more. "Yea, but …"

"I'm on the pill," she said. "I have been since … I … trusted you enough to let you … help get me off. To work at enjoying sex again …"

Jack bite at the inside of his cheek. Renee watched him and allowed a small shrug.

"It's OK," she allowed with a small, weak smile. "I get it. It's not hundred percent effective. Not that anything is. But if you're not comfortable with it…"

"It's not that," he said. "I just … I've never done it that way before. It seems kind of … big."

Renee stared at him. It hung there between them. "It is," she finally agreed. "It's a really big deal. To me too, Jack."

And that hung there again. He tried to process. But it was another info bomb. And the only way he could figure out how to deal with it was to slowly lean in and find her mouth again. And she his.

And they kissed. They touched. They held each other. They rocked slightly and pressed closer together.

And then his breath caught again and he broke from the kiss and stared at her. Renee kept his eyes. Their mouths – lips, parted and wet and swollen. Just an inch from each other. Their aroused breathes warm and hot in each other's faces.

She'd guided him into her. They'd been so close together. Legs tangled and scissored. Pressed against each other. He hadn't even realized her latest touch had been to do that. She'd never done that before.

And Jack had never felt that sensation before. He knew that barely his head was inside her. But he also knew that anyone who said it didn't feel different without a condom either didn't have a penis or was fucking lying. Because this was intensely different. He was almost afraid to move.

But he stared at her and she moved her mouth a little. She kissed at his jaw and then at his collarbone. His neck. Right there. And Jack let out another quiet guttural sound.

And he let himself press slowly into her. It could feel every inch of it. Could feel it screaming through his lonely ball and through his clenched asshole and all the way up his spine.

He made another little noise and found Renee's mouth again. She gave it to him. And again he found himself hardly able to move – out of fear this might be over way too soon.

They parted again and shared their breathing as he rocked gently against her – as much as he could on his side. Her on hers. Facing. Staring at each other.

Her hand came back up and rested on his cheek. She really looked at him. Like into him.

"Say that L-word again …," she rasped low at him.

He kissed her deeply again. Trying to find a breathing pattern that made sense. And then parted from her and stared.

"I love you," he managed.

"I love you too," she said.

Pressed together. Joined. Inching forward. But moving. Moving forward – ever so slowly – together.

Fuck.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**This chapter is a continuation of the previous chapter (Debrief). They were posted less than 24 hours apart — so you might've missed it. Please go back and check.**

**The next chapter will be an Olivia POV re: Benji's treatment day.**

**Reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated.**


	33. Wishes

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

Olivia fiddled with Flame's wings. The tattered and worn dragon that had likely become a part of her little boy's life seven years ago almost to the day. The stuffed animal that he'd gazed at longingly but declared he shouldn't get to have because he wasn't a 'rich kid'. What he'd really meant was he was 'other' – and she'd spent seven years trying to break down the walls around those labels and the stigma that came with them. To make her child feel 'normal' and loved and wanted and deserving – just as much as anyone else. Because Benji so was.

But in some ways it all seemed for naught. Because seven years of all the work and labor of love that is motherhood – of a traumatized, neglected little boy - only for them to end up here: In the hospital – with a new label. A label that declared 'other' just as harshly. If not more-so. And somehow it ached even more as a parent, because this wasn't a label Olivia knew how to fix or heal – not in the way she'd been able to with a lonely, traumatized little boy. As much as she'd ever been able to truly accomplish that. It'd been it's own wading around in the dark of putting years of talking the talk into walking the walker – and it'd been a difficult and trying journey to get Benji as far as they had only for them to fall down again now and for her to still be feeling around trying to figure out how to navigate the illness and hospitals and doctors and health care system and medical insurance as a parent of a sick child.

Benji had stuffed Flame into what was supposed to be their day bag – to get them through this day at the hospital. It'd been in the midst of him jamming the iPad and his Bumblebee yellow Transformer decorated headphones (that were in bad need of upgrading to reflect the tween Benji supposedly was and the little boy Olivia was struggling to believe he still was not) and his sketching pencils. He'd balked at her trying to fit their family novel in there. For 1) His sister needed to hear it too. For 2) Daddy only did some of the voices right and she only did hers right and never shall the two cross – hence they hadn't been reading it at all that week in Brian's absence opting instead for multiple picture books as she tried to get them to settle and shut their eyes. And, for 3) There needed to be room for Flame.

She hadn't argued farther – about her 11-year-old needing to bring his battered teddy. His fire-breathing comfort creature – even though he was apparently so grown-up … . More grown-up in some ways than any 11-year-old really should be. But she was glad she hadn't argued, because beyond the anxious wait in the waiting room where she'd tried to distract her little boy by letting him trace and jab his fingers along the screen of the iPad with headphones on and eyes directed downward – it'd been Flame that had been out front and center as she tried to guide Benji through these steps of the day. Through the moments her 'big boy' struggled to be Brian's 'Big Man'. Those moments that Benji usually cried for his dad because he'd rather Brian see him hurting and in tears than her – because little boys trying to be big boys and protectors in their mother's lives and she could already see the good man that her little man was growing into slowly and all too fast.

So as Benji tried to hide his tears from her that morning, they'd instead set his eyes on Flame. Though, Olivia's eyes hadn't moved from her son – and she struggled in her own way to keep Benji from knowing how much this made her ache too. Just how scared and sad she was. But as her child looked at his dragon, she stroked at his cheek and wiped away Benji's tears. And she whispered to told him firmly that he was strong and brave. And to keep so, so still while the doctors and nurses shoved fine needles into his spine.

There never could be a needle fine enough that wouldn't make a mother cringe knowing they were doing that to her child. That Benji was going through that –when she'd give anything to be the one curled on the table in that fetal position – knees pulled to chest and chin tucked down. But this was a moment – one of several this past year – where she couldn't raise her hand and stand in her son's place. And when she couldn't take his pain and fear away. Instead she lived with the daily pain of knowing that she couldn't do those things. Knowing that he was going through this. Knowing that there was this uncertainty hovering over his future – but that more pain, more doctors, more fatigue, more 'sick' days were certainly in them.

So now she tuffed at Flame – making sure the stuffie was all toughened up for her little boy when Benji needed him again.

But for now – her and Flame were in an anxious moment of not-quite reprieve, staring at Benji's unconscious form.

He'd been drowsing in-and-out of a stupor for the better part of ninety minutes now. And Olivia just watched – at his bedside, reaching occasionally to hold his little hand and to rub her finger along the top of it as he twitched (and near shuttered) in his medicated semi-consciousness that she wouldn't call sleep.

"I don't know, Bri," she muttered into the phone. "It's not going exactly as expected."

Not that Brian's day was either – because he was supposed to be there, and he wasn't. And she could hear in his voice that was paining him too. But it was what it was.

"Well, what are the doctors saying?" he pressed – where she pressed the phone into her ear and tried to keep her tones hushed to not to disturb the other patients in the recovery bay they'd been stashed away in.

Olivia sighed a little and leaned forward to calm Benji's little twitches again. His arm had jumped a bit. He likely sensed she was on the phone with his dad. And he likely could feel – if not hear – Brian's own anxiety radiating through the receiver from 500 miles away.

"A lot and not much," she sighed. "Yet."

"I don't know what that means," he said into her ear. She could hear his frustration – with himself and the whole situation; not just being grounded in another country as a snowstorm raged through but with the illness of their child, and the medical system as a whole.

"They had to stop the IV," she said. "He was complaining about a headache and had some flushing. They're going to start it again at a slower rate in a bit if he improves."

"So how much longer will it take?" Brian asked. She couldn't tell if it was him gauging the length of the treatment or more gauging the possibility that he'd somehow get home in time to be at Benji's bedside – so their son would know they were both there with him.

"I don't know," Olivia pressed again. "The nurse mentioned it might mean they'll keep us here tonight. Or they'll have to break the infusion into two; we'll have to come back tomorrow."

It hung there. Neither option was ideal. Not with him away – and stranded in what was apparently really the Great White North that day. Not with it being Thanksgiving and how that would emotionally rock the boat for both their children. But with the fear that it would diminish the availability and likely the quality of the health care they received if they had to come back in the morning. Don't get sick on holidays or weekends. Olivia saw that truth in too many cases. Too many holidays and Friday and Saturday nights spent waiting for victims to be seen in the ER. For doctors to be paged and to come in. For the triaging to get to cases not considered true emergencies. To see the short staffed hospitals and the exhausted nurses and the young doctors who'd drawn the short straws in landing that particular never-ending and over-flowing shift.

But she finally heard Brian let out a sigh. A long, slow exhale that seeped out his frustration again. He'd know all that too. He'd have experienced – seen it – and knew how it affected cases and victims: people.

"Is he improving?" he asked.

Olivia exhaled too and held at Benji's hand. "He's sleeping," she allowed – even though it still didn't seem like sleeping to her. "They had to sedate him for us to get through the lumbar puncture. With how he's coping with IV they ended up giving some high-dose acetaminophen and diphenydramine."

"So Tylenol and Benadryl?" Brian asked but Olivia suspected from his tone it was more of a statement.

"He's pretty doped up," she stated in something between confirmation and agreement. "He's been drifting in and out for a while. It's … a restless sleep. It's hard to tell how he's doing, Bri. The nurse is over checking on his vitals about every twenty minutes. All I'm getting from her is nods and one word answers. 'Good'."

It was quiet again. But she could feel – see in her mind's eye Brian's body language. She knew he'd be self-flagellating. It was his way. But she didn't know what to say to stop it or calm it that day – and her focus and energy was going other places.

He finally exhaled harder. "Babe … I'm sorry."

"It's OK," she muttered. "We knew it was a possibility."

"More like fucking Murphy's Law."

Olivia smiled weakly at that and let herself release Benji's little hand for a moment to rub at her eyebrow.

"The doctor … briefly almost spoke to me – at the lumbar puncture," she muttered. "Whatever they saw just looking at it under the scopes here, I did get told apparently this initial infusion is going to be administered in two stages. Stage 2 will be scheduled for four days after however long it takes us to get through this drip."

"So … Monday? Tuesday?" Brian muttered.

"I guess," she allowed weakly.

"OK," Brian said somewhat absently. "So … I've got that one. So you don't have to take more time off."

"We'll see how this goes …," Olivia said – because right then she couldn't imagine that she'd be anywhere but Benji's bedside on the Stage 2 IV day. Not with the way he looked there in the bed. Not when it was her little boy and she'd made mistakes and choices about his health versus her work before. She wouldn't do that again. She knew her priorities – no matter the repercussions at work. Not matter she was still waiting for the Captain promotion to be official.

"The nurse …," she muttered, "when she was prepping him for the IV and doing calculations for the schedule – she said every three weeks, Bri. That's not what I took away from our meeting with the doctor. Did you?"

"No," he said. "I thought it sounded more like an every few months thing. If this doesn't turn him around."

"They … must've seen something in his blood work. Or his spinal fluid," she mumbled and stared at her boy.

"They haven't said anything about it yet?"

"Just this Stage 2 and three weeks," she said. "That the initial results will be back in several days. Whatever else he was looking at will be more like six to eight weeks."

"Fuck …," Brian muttered off on his end of the line.

That hung there too. The looming cost and the looming battles with their insurance. And the looming questions about just what the doctor had seen in Benji's blood work or his spinal fluids. Enough good news to go ahead with the treatment? But enough bad news that … it wasn't going to be a one time thing?

"Three weeks, Brian," Olivia said. "This is likely what our … the kids' … Christmas looks like this year too …," Not that it was important – in the grand scheme of things. And, yet, it was. In so many ways she just wanted this year to be over for their family – and she'd hoped for it to go out on a positive note. That would be … nice. But now it sounded … like ongoing stress rather than looking toward that possibility of a fresh start – real or imagined as it may be.

"At least we'll be together," Brian said. ""We'll figure it out."

"OK," she mouthed – and she knew she'd mouthed it. That he hadn't seen or hadn't heard – but he must've known.

"What can I do?" he said. "Want me to shoot off some texts to keep the crowd from gathering at our place tomorrow?"

"I don't know what I want to do about that …," Olivia said.

"Liv …," he sighed a bit at her.

And she sighed too. She knew he was right. She'd already had to shuck off their Nets tickets for that night. Not that Finn had minded claiming them as some kind of consolation prize for having to be the Acting CO that day. Though, he'd been sure to point out with his track record he knew he'd be getting a call either in the Fourth Quarter or Overtime of a killer game. But losing those tickets was one thing. It was only her and Brian who knew about that 'surprise'. The kids were none the wiser on the loss. She, however, felt bad to start calling off Thanksgiving last minute; turning people away and letting them down when they might not have other plans or anywhere else to truly go. Though, she knew they were all capable adults who could come up with something to fill their day.

"I'll call Rafa," she conceded. "I don't want to turn away your mother or Munch yet."

"Babe, we aren't going to be cooking dinner if we're in the hospital all day tomorrow," Brian told her gently.

Olivia shrugged as she stared at her child. Right now she wasn't even sure if they'd be home from the hospital by tomorrow. Not with the way this was going.

"We both know your mom would prefer to be the one doing the cooking tomorrow," she said.

"And, think we both know that I'd prefer your version of Thanksgiving over some recipes off the back of Campbell's soup labels," Brian put back to her.

And she smiled a little at that offering. "We'll need her to watch Emmy …"

"What about today? Is someone picking Em up at school?" he asked.

"Cragen," she said flatly.

"What about you guys?" he pressed. "How'd you get over there this morning? Do you need a lift—"

"Brian, please, stop," she sighed heavily out.

She knew he was trying to help. That Brian was desperately trying to find a way to help since he wasn't there to be of help. But she couldn't do that right now either. And she'd done many years of taking care of things – herself – on her own. How well she'd done at that was up for debate.

And it was quiet between them for a long moment. She could feel the heaviness of his sadness almost as fully as it was sitting in her own chest.

"What's going on there?" Olivia asked instead – trying to pull both of them out of it. "How's it looking?"

He sighed again into her ear. "I don't know," he said. "I'm feeling like I should've just rented a fucking car last night."

"Being a road warrior in the dark in the middle of a blizzard through the Appalachians on a route you aren't familiar?" she mumbled. She didn't see it as an option. But Brian did have something resembling a history of bad choices – and flying through by the seat of his pants blindly. He might've been able to make that drive – and arrive unscathed. But she hadn't felt it was worth the risk of having more of their family end up in the hospital.

"How's the weather there?" he asked.

"Rain," she said flatly. "Some ice pellets – when we were coming in. I haven't been near a window in a while."

"This is fucking ridiculous," Brian muttered.

"It's still coming down?"

She heard some movement from him. "A little," he said. "Can see them working on clearing the runaways. So hopefully things get back up and running soon."

"It's likely going to take a while for them to get everyone rebooked …"

"Today – this weekend – yea," he said.

"At least it's not a holiday there," Olivia tried.

"Don't think it fucking matters," Brian mumbled. "Lots of people sleeping on the floors hoping to snag the first available flights home."

"Any guess on when that will be?" she said.

"I don't know," he said with the frustration seeping from him. "Seriously considering renting a car or catching a bus to Buffalo."

"Are they up and running?"

"Last time I checked – no," Brian said flatly.

"Just … sit tight," Olivia said. "We don't need you to do a re-enactment of Planes, Trains and Automobiles."

"Could just about," Brian said. "Good casting. Jonesy here is losing his mind. More than me…. His wife is unimpressed."

She smiled a little at that. And then frowned. "Did Lindsay get out in time?"

"She road warrior'ed it," Brian said flatly.

"She's used to it," Olivia mumbled as some sort of consolation. "She was doing it all the time from here."

He only made a sound. It was a sound that again betrayed that he wished he'd just done the same the night before and hadn't stayed to wait out the storm and then wait out the air traffic backlog.

"You could decide if we're doing your or my union's holiday party this year. I think both, the RSVPs were due today."

Brian made a sound. "Big Man going to be up to either of them?"

"I really don't know, Bri …," she said and stared at him. "He looks so small and pale right now," she nearly whispered.

And the sound was more frustrated. "Babe, I really think I should just go and rent something for me and Jones. "That way I'll be home by tonight."

"Give it a few more hours," she said. "We'll see where we are in a few hours …"

And that frustrated exhale again came out of him. "I should be there …"

She smiled weakly. "Bring us home something pretty," she teased gently. "We'll forgive you."

"What from the airport souvenir shops?" Brian muttered.

"Duty free?" Olivia tried. "Hear Canada is known for maple syrup and diamonds."

That got a vaguely amused noise out of Brian. He was good at getting her random pieces of jewellery that she wasn't expecting. But it'd only once included diamonds – and that piece was on her finger.

"Also hear they produced Jack," Brian mumbled at her.

"Well, that hasn't proven to be the best souvenir from Canada," she said with some sarcasm. "I think his mother either didn't have – or didn't pass on – the polite genetics."

"Heard from him today? He in the loop about what's going on?"

"Not yet," she said quietly. "I will – after I have a clearer picture of how long we're going to be here."

"Think about if we should tell him Thanksgiving dinner is off too …" Brian said.

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow. "I don't want to turn him away either, Bri …"

"Dad …," Olivia heard mumbled and shifted her eyes back to Benji. His eyelids had fluttered open to narrow slits. He gazed at her blurry-eyed, still in an obvious stupor.

She leaned forward and found his hand again and hushed him a bit. "Daddy's not here yet, sweet boy. He's on the phone. Do you want to talk to him?"

Benji's eyes seemed so heavy but he wearily nodded and she handed the phone over. Benji's hand fumbled with it; reaching to find it but not seeming to be able to grip it so she switched it to FaceTime, waiting for Brian to accept and positioning it so they could both see each other. Though, she didn't think Brian seeing how pale and sickly Benji looked in that moment was going to do much for his guilt or restlessness about being stuck on the other side of the border – an eight hour drive away if the roads were good but only a ninety minute flight if the airports could just open back up and the airline would get him on a plane. Or he could neogiate a seat on one of the first flights to get airborne when the skies opened up.

"Dad …," he rasped off and upward toward the phone. Olivia wasn't sure he was really seeing Brian taking him in.

"Hey, Bud," Brian said.

"You're not here," Benji mumbled out.

"I know, Bud," Brian said. "I'm working on it. Soon."

"When?"

"Soon, Big Man," he said evenly. "Storm's moving out. They're getting the runways cleaned up. I'll be on a plane soon."

"It snowed," Benji said.

"Yea. Here it did. Bad."

"Snow for Christmas …"

"Yea, well, maybe," Brian said. "Up here anyway. Mom says it's raining there."

Benji just made an agonizing sound and sort of gazed around their space. There wasn't much to look at. The curtain around his bed was drawn.

"How you doing there, Ben?" Brian tried. Hi voice sounded concerned. But it was likely concerned by the look of Benji and the guttural noise that had just rattled out of him.

"My head hurts," Benji moaned out and then looked glassy eyed at Olivia, rolling slightly on his side and starting to heave.

Olivia fumbled with the phone – dropping it into Benji's lap and grabbing for the vomit tray that the nurse had left with her. She managed to get it under Benji's mouth just in time as he heaved out a yellow bile that had some vague remnants of his breakfast cereal that was still in his stomach. He choked and gagged on the vomit.

"Oh, Benj …," she sighed, grabbing for a towel to dab at his mouth as he rolled back onto his pillow and stared up at the ceiling with staggered breathing.

Olivia drew the vomit bowl away from him – setting it on the stand and pulled the curtain nearest her open a bit. "Nurse …," she called out and looked around. One of the women dealing with the numerous patients in the bay looked her way. "He's throwing up …" she offered flatly. But again all she got was a nod. And she sighed a bit.

Olivia let the curtain fall back into place and gripped at Benji's hand, hushing him some more. A lone tear was streaming down his cheek.

She reached for the phone and found that Brian was still there. He frowned at her. But Olivia only shook her head. "I'll call after I get to talk to the doctor," she said.

He sighed and she could see he was about to say something but she disconnected the call before he could. The nurse had appeared.

"Not feeling well, Benjamin," she said, giving the bowl of vomit a glance but then scanning the monitors attached to the boy.

"My head hurts …," Benji whined out again.

"Mmm …," the nurse allowed and moved to take his temperature.

"Is it the IV?" Olivia asked. "He can't tolerate it? Or an allergic reaction?"

The nurse just hummed at her too and looked at the thermometer as it beeped from his swipe across Benji's forehead. "It could be," she said and directed the device her way. "His temperature has risen a bit. You've got a small fever, Benjamin."

Benji just whimpered a bit.

"How's your back feeling?" the nurse asked.

"Hurts …," Benji whimpered again.

"Yeah?" the nurse said. "Are you staying nice and still and flat on it?"

"He's been sleeping," Olivia said.

The nurse only nodded at that and lifted the blankets a bit. "Benjamin, can you roll up onto your side for me?"

He again let out a little sound but listened. Olivia watched at the nurse parted Benji's gown a bit and looked at his spine. She ran her hand down it and then lifted the gauze covering where the lumbar puncture had been. Olivia stared – even she could see the red irritation there and almost feel the heat radiating from where she was sitting.

"It's likely more of a small spinal fluid leak," the nurse nodded at Olivia as she gently pressed the bandaging back into place and then nudged Benji back down onto his back. "Those can make you feel pretty awful," she smiled weakly and barely bordering reassuringly at the little boy. "A bad, bad headache and really dizzy and pretty pukey."

"Yea …," Benji managed.

"But we'll get you fixed up," she almost assured and then looked at Olivia. "The doctor's on his way up. I'll just brief him and he should be right in."

"It's been almost two hours," Olivia said. "Are you going to be restarting the infusion?"

The nurse looked at her a little more sternly. "He'll discuss that with you."

She sighed some frustration but the nurse seemed to barely register it. She just retrieved the vomit, placed a new dish within reach and left – pulling the curtain back into place.

Olivia pulled her chair a bit closer to Benji's bed and again found his hand. He was clutching at the blankets in tight fist and she ended up more gripping at his knuckles than his fingers. She reached and put Flame on his chest – wriggling the beast's neck between two fingers to make him look like he was alive and thrilled to see his boy. Just like she'd done for Benji when he was a preschooler and dreamed that all his stuffed animals came to life.

He allowed the toy a weak attempt at a smile but didn't reached for it. So Olivia set it next to the boy and swiped at his forehead. It was warm. But at least he wasn't burning up.

"You want to watch something on the iPad or for me to read to you?" she offered.

His head shook a little. "My head hurts …" he moaned quietly again.

"I know …," she conceded. "So just shut your eyes again, Benj. Try to rest …"

He did. They waded shut bit by bit and as they did his hand loosened and found hers and she held it tight. She reached and tucked Flame under his other arm and Benji did wrap his hand up around the toy that time. His fingers clutching at the wings of the toy.

"Mom …," he mumbled with his eyes still closed.

"Yes, Little Fox …?"

"Were you and Dad talking 'bout cancelling Thanksgiving?" he asked quietly.

She squeezed his hand gently. "Not cancelling," she said. "Just making it quieter so you can rest and feel better."

"Does that mean we aren't going to the Turkey Scrimmage and Toy Drive?"

She frowned sadly at that. "I don't think you or Daddy are really going to be up to playing hockey this weekend, Benji. We'll take our toys and food another day. We'll go volunteer at the warehouse. OK?"

"Does it mean we aren't gonna see Santa?"

She let a quiet amused noise escape and she leaned again to stroke at his forehead and up to his hairline. "Santa sets up shop until December 24th, Benji. We'll have lots to time to go see Santa."

"But Emmy really wants an Rainbocorn," he said.

She smiled some more at that. "Well, Benj, I think you've got an idea how Santa works. So, maybe if we can't go see Santa this weekend, your sister can write a letter so Santa's workshop gets lots of notice about this Rainbocorn request."

"She wants the lion one," he said.

"I'm sure Santa will try his best," Olivia said, giving Benji's hand a little squeeze.

"Mom …?" he whispered again.

"Yes, Benji …"

"Santa still brought Peedg stuff even though he didn't believe and was an almost grown-up …"

She allowed a weak smile and held at his hand while she stroked his cheek – his eyes closed tight. "He did …" she allowed and gave his hand a little squeeze, "because Jack had to be a big brother and help keep the magic alive for you while you were little. Just like you're helping keep the magic alive for your little sister."

"But Peedg didn't go and see Santa and talk to him anymore …," Benji said.

"No," Olivia agreed. "He didn't. But I think Emmy would really like if you still went with her."

"And I'm still allowed to ask Santa for something?" Benji whispered.

"Yes, sweet boy," she said and pressed a kiss against his hand she was holding. "You are still allowed to make a Christmas wish with Santa."

"Are you only allowed to ask Santa for toys?" Benji asked. "Is that the only Christmas magic the Santa story does? Because … he's different in other countries, Mom. He's a saint in some countries. Like God stuff."

She smiled a little at that. "That's true, Benj. And, you can wish for whatever you want."

"So you can talk to him about stuff that isn't a toy?" Benji said.

Olivia rubbed her thumb along the top of his hand. "Benj, Daddy and I know you'd really like a videogame and headphones," she said gently. "And just like, Santa – we'll do our best."

"No …," Benji said even more quietly. "Can you talk to him like God? Like a saint? … Messenger? And see if the magic works that way to bring you a wish? … Like a prayer?"

Olivia cocked her head at him and gripped his hand a bit tighter. "What do you want to ask Santa for?"

And another little tear trickled out of Benji's tight shut eyes. "I dunno," he said. "To feel better or to find a cure for lupus or to make sure no kids are sick …"

And Olivia felt her own tears threaten to fall over the rim of her eyes and she shook his hand hard and tight in hers. "Those are really good Christmas wishes, Benji," she whispered. "And …. Daddy and I … and your doctors … are working really hard to at least make the first part of that come true for you. And … I think … I know you're so smart and so strong that … I bet some day you'll help make the rest of those wishes come true for other kids …"

"Maybe Santa … or God and … his saints and angels and stuff can help now, though …" Benji whispered.

"Maybe …," Olivia allowed and swiped at her eyes trying to keep the tears in. "Some times saying prayers out loud helps make them real, Benj. You're right …"

"So maybe … that's what I'll ask … or tell him …"

She just nodded and gripped more at his hand, still swiping at her eyes and willing Benji not to open his and see that he'd made her teary.

**Reviews and feedback are appreciated. Not sure if next chapter will be a continuation of Benji's treatment/time in the hospital or if it will jump to Thanksgiving day/weekend.**


	34. Under Pressure

**Title: Step At A Time**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality. **

**The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.**

Brian let out a sigh as he let his duffle bag slip off his shoulder, setting the tray of coffees and overpriced sandwiches on the counter of the hospital registration counter while he reached to dig out his wallet out of his pocket.

"Hey," he managed to mumble at the administrator behind the glassed in desk space. "I'm headed up to sit with my son for the night."

The woman gave him a bit of a nod and started keying away at the computer. "Patient's name?"

"Ben," he said, pushing his ID across the counter to her. But corrected himself: "Benjamin. Benson. Cassidy," he added as an after-thought. For all the years and conversation and fucking paperwork to get that hyphenated addition added to Big Man's name, it sure felt weird saying it. Sometimes still almost forgot it was there.

"Father?" the woman asked – not even looking at him or the ID yet. "Brian?"

"Yea," Brian muttered right back, leaning his elbow on the counter for some support. He was fucking exhausted.

His movement got a little glance from the woman. But she didn't say anything. She just retrieved the ID. Gave it a look. Gave her screen a look. Gave him a look. Put it back on the counter. And Brian put it back in his wallet.

"I need you to look right there for me," she said with a vague gesture at the camera.

Brian gazed at it.

This was going to look like shit. Worse than a driver's licence or passport photo. Didn't know why they needed it. Should have one on file. But maybe he was so fucking beat that he didn't look the same as whatever photo they had on record of him. And, guess it'd been a while since they'd had to be there overnight with Ben. Lost some weight. Hair shorter on his head. And replaced by something that resembled whatever it was that constituted facial hair and beard on him. It was a bigger mess than usual right now – with spending the past several days barely getting back to his hotel room and now the past thirty-six hours stuck in airports and in-transit. Liv would either love it or really fucking hate it. She was actually probably too exhausted in her own right to notice or care one way or the other. And running into Fin on the way in only meant her night wasn't going to be getting much easier despite his arrival there.

The light above the camera gave a little countdown and then flashed at him. Brian was pretty fucking sure he'd blinked.

The woman didn't care. Just punched away at her computer some more.

"Wrist," she ordered flatly.

Brian stuck it out and watched the familiar band go around his arm. Patient info for Ben. Branded and banded him and Liv whenever they were in there with him.

"Fourth floor, E-wing, bed 435," the woman said. "It's on the bracelet if you forget."

"Sure …," Brian allowed. Knew the drill.

Knew it well enough he kept still while the printer kept making its printing sounds and then spit out an ID card. The woman retrieved, punched it and strung the metal-bead threading through it. That got shoved towards him to. His racoon-eyed face of exhaustion and the near fucking gerbil he had growing off his chin right now staring up at him – above a giant yellow band that declared VISITOR.

"You must wear it at all times," the woman said. There wasn't any real conviction to that order. She didn't even give him another glance to see if he draped it around his neck.

But Brian did and leaned back against the counter. "Hey, I've been trying to get back to the city for like pushing thirty-six hours—"

That did get a glance from the woman. Clearly had hit on a topic she was actually interested in. "Supposed to be the most snow we've had on Thanksgiving – and the coldest – since '78," she said.

"Yea," Brian muttered. "So I've heard. Something off the plains and some sort of Arctic front had me stranded up in Canada. Finally get out of there and we're circling around the city in turbulence and next to no visibility. Barely can land here. Or have them find us a gate when we finally do. Best call of my week to not check my bag."

"Always is," the woman murmured with a headshake. "Always, always carry-on when you can."

"Yea, F'ing-A, right? Because JFK has some kind of circus goin' on at those carousels. But then wade out into this mess. Still took more than two hours to get here."

The woman shook her head a bit at that. "Saying we might have almost ten inches by the time it's done." She glanced at the screen. "And see he's an in-patience for treatment? Likely to be discharged tomorrow? Not sure how quick the roads will get cleaned up with the holiday. Some of MTA has shut down with the storm. Hope you aren't having to go too far."

"Just back across to Brooklyn. Not that that's goin' be a short trip."

"Mmm, hmm," the woman agreed with another headshake that almost seemed sympathetic this time.

"Guess we'll see how to play that when we get the green light to take him home," Brian said. "But look, is there like a shower pass or something I can get? Want to clean up a bit. Especially if it's goin' be like another thirty-six before I see my own bed and bathroom, you know."

Apparently he'd smooth-talked her enough with the small talk distraction. She allowed him a small smile and pushed a white keycard toward him.

"Family lounge is on the second floor," she said. He nodded. He knew. "I'm not sure if there's an attendant there right now. They've been working at sending some of the non-essentials home. But you just return it to her or bring it back down here before you do get started on your trek home."

"Thanks," Brian allowed and gave her a little nod, as he gathered up his crap. "You get home safe too, huh. Happy Thanksgiving," he muttered as he started toward the elevators.

He let out a bit of a slow exhale as he waited for the car to come down. Stared at the numbers on the lit up panel above the doors.

He worked at getting into the right headspace. Brian knew that a lot of times when he was this fucking tired – and coming off this kind of case, with this kind of workload – he wasn't his best-self with his wife or kids. He reverted to some of his old ways – and his defence mechanisms. His patience got shorter. His temper got hotter. And he generally talked a lot less and just went inside himself. But blew off the handle way too easily.

He knew it. And Liv called him on it. She didn't put up with it. So he'd gotten good a reeling it in. And being more self-aware about how he was acting – and why. Liv saw the good in him. Brian didn't want her to have to think twice about that. And, really, what he wanted was for her to not just see the good in him – but to see the best of him. So he tried. He really fucking tried. But some days – some times – it was real fucking hard to turn off a lifetime of self-protection and self-preservation and self-defence mechanism. It was especially hard when he knew he'd come from a case that had it's triggering aspects to it. Triggers that went off more easily when he was overtired and stressed and fucking frustrated.

But – as the doors dinged open and he got on the elevator – he told himself, again, that that just wasn't what Liv and Big Man needed out of him right then. He needed to be stable to give them some stability after their own real shitty day – in a real shitty week and fairly shitty month and a rather epically shitty year. But it was almost over and they were getting there. So he'd play his bit in getting them all there – all through – too.

Brian had to give the signage a bit of a glance as he got off the elevator. Orient himself a bit more. He didn't think they'd been situated on this floor before. But suspected it was sort-term stays. Quick turnover on the beds. Overnight treatments sort of thing. Maybe some surgery recovery or adverse reactions that were only expected to take a day or two to bounce back from – before being sent home or moved to another ward.

He trudged down the hall. The floor was real quiet. The nurses at the nursing station gave him a glance but not much of one. Set their eyes on his visitor pass and then moved them right back to what they were doing before.

His eyes scanned the room numbers – searching for Ben's assigned bed.

For all the fucking things the insurance company argued with them about. The fucking red tape and barriers they had to deal with. Hoops they were having to jump through. At least they fucking paid for his kid to access his care at this hospital – to be able to be admitted here for in-patient treatment. State-of-the-art, brand new, futuristic. And would've been fucking down the street from them if they could've seen the future and just sucked it up and stayed in Murray Hill. So maybe home wasn't that close – but at least this place had all single bed rooms for the kids who did get admitted.

The privacy – and just being away from other people's family drama and heartbreak and their fucking germs – at least made it getting through the rest of the treatment a bit easier. Better too than sitting in a room full of wannabe armchairs for hours and hours. Trying to get Ben to rest and be still and remain calm and entertained through all that.

Give that the hospital tried. But any and all of that only worked so much when kids were involved. Not that he'd gotten the impression from Liv that Ben was looking to do too much beyond sleep that day with all the poking and prodding they'd put him through and all the drugs they had pumped into him at this point.

He stuck his head into the room but the curtain had been pulled around the bed. Liv was likely trying to keep some of the light and bit of movement and noise still going on in the hallways to a minimum. Trying to get Ben some quiet and maybe giving them a touch more privacy. But even if Big Man was asleep, could see even from the door the light casting through the curtain that betrayed that Liv was still awake and on her phone. Not that he was fucking surprised – especially after running into Fin downstairs. He wouldn't be surprised if he was basically just relieving her at that point so she could go deal with her on-the-job responsibilities.

Brian pulled the curtain back a bit and Liv glanced up at him from sitting on the near vinyl klik-klak couch that pretty much turned into a tight fit and even harder double bed. No surprise, though: it didn't even look like she'd thought about sleeping. Couch still up. Still definitely in what she'd likely worn to the hospital that day. And on the phone. But she smiled at him. Softly and gently.

"You made it …," she said evenly. No tone. Just statement of facts.

And Cassidy felt some of the bullshit of the past 36 hours – and all that week – start to melt away at least just a little bit. She was good at that. At least when she wasn't busting his balls and generally driving him fucking crazy with how fucking stubborn and contrary she was. But then she also wasn't. She also was this – his stabilizing force. His anchor – in the best possible way. She – the kid – had brought him back to reality and kept him more in one place. Not running from himself and his demons. Coping with them in different ways.

He slouched onto the couch next to her – letting his bags slope off his shoulder and onto the ground. But keeping the coffee tray steady as he handed it out to her and she gratefully retrieved hers.

"Thank you," she mouthed at him and leaned into him. Her lips found his in a brief kiss. And she settled a bit closer to him on the couch – her shoulder leaning a bit against his. Her thigh touching at his. Turning her whole body to give him some of attention – if not the majority of it – in that moment. And maybe that's why she was his stabilizer too. She did that. Treated him like she saw him. And he deserved to be seen. It was something he was still getting used to even after all these years.

"Fancy sleeping arrangements," Brian muttered.

It got another small smile out of her as she settled a bit more and opened the tab of her coffee to take a sip.

"The recliner's way more comfortable," she gestured over on the opposite side of Big Man's bed. Liv was right. He looked real small in that hospital bed under those thin blankets and with all this medical equipment attached to him and displaying information that Brian wasn't going to pretend he understood. "If you need to close your eyes for a bit."

"I'm OK," Brian said. He was more fixated on just staring at Ben now. He didn't know how to verbalize just how fucking hard it was to see your kid sick and hurting and to not be able to do near shit about it. To fix it. Take it away. Didn't matter how good of a parent you tried to be. Shit like this just made you feel like a fucking failure. He scrubbed at his face a bit. "Saw Fin downstairs."

"I heard," Liv mumbled around the rim of her coffee cup. She was definitely working on sucking it back – hot. "I got a text: 'Your man's on his way up.'"

Brian could feel her roll her eyes as she said it. Likely part of the reason Tutuola put it that way. The two had way more than enough of a history that he knew how to get a good rise out of her and didn't pull punches in taking the opportunity to do just that.

Brian knew he was a lot of things to Liv. Played and fulfilled different roles and needs for her. Friend – even best friend – she wouldn't hesitate to call him. Partner. They were both getting their brains and mouths around the label 'spouse'. But 'her man' – Brian knew full fucking well she'd never really ease into that label. Olivia Benson didn't need a 'man' – let alone one of her own. Even if the other fucking labels pretty much affirmed that was exactly what he was.

But that was part of the deal. He'd come to accept that. For what it was. Maybe enough jibs from others around here might eventually get her to shift her perspective. For better or worse.

"Man's a poet," he deadpanned at her. It got a bigger eye roll. "You going to need to go check-in on your crew?"

She made a little sound and leaned more against the back of the rock hard couch. "It's messy," she muttered. "But Fin's got it under control."

He raised a bit of an eyebrow at her. Things had to be pretty shit in their family situation of the moment for her to not get her fingerprints all over an SVU investigation – if it was blowing up big. Big Man being in the hospital might warrant her bailing out on the job. But his condition stable – and the kid sleeping – maybe not so much.

She sighed a little at his scrutiny. "Maybe a bit later," she admitted. "If he's still asleep."

Her coffee-free hand snaked out and rubbed down the back of his head and his neck. Scratched a bit with her nails and the careful fidgeting – tugs – at some of the hair back there. Even with as short as it was, Brian was still sure that all his sitting with his head against headrests – restlessly – in the past many, many, MANY hours had likely left a matted mess that would drive her a little nutty. He didn't care. He liked when she did that. Another anchor point for him. To calm and stabilize. To try to get out of work mode and the headspace that this fucking case had him in. To get back to family time. Family man. Spouse and dad. With big important shit going on right here, right now.

"You just got here," she added. "I haven't seen you all week."

"FaceTime," he muttered.

It got a bigger eyeroll. They both knew that FaceTime with each other – or with the kids – didn't count worth shit compared to time next to your family. Actually almost always usually just made you more frustrated with the situation – and yourself; that they only way you were seeing them was on some fucking screen.

"You working by remote?" he asked, nodding at the phone she'd temporarily set on the armrest – but that she pretty much was attached to at all times.

"Ah, no," she said, giving it a glance and then him this sheepish look. "I was researching Rainbocorns."

He gave her an amused look at that and rearranged himself slightly in her presence. Bending to retrieve the brown bag that had the sandwiches in it.

"You know we can just order one online rather than running around trying to find the toy of the season in a store," he muttered.

He offered one of the sandwiches to her. But Liv shook her head. He eyed her for a long moment. But left it. He knew she likely hadn't eaten all day. That the most she would've had would've been any snacks she'd packed for Ben or anything the staff had brought around for him to try to get into him. But by the sounds of it Ben had spent a chunk of the day puking. So he hadn't likely touched much beyond juice, jello and popsicles. But the kid wasn't likely too upset by that. What kid would be?

"I've been informed that there's a specific Rainbocorn Emmy wants," she said.

"Of course," Brian mumbled, as he took a bite out of the sandwich. You could tell that it'd been sitting there wrapped up at least all day. The cheese had pretty much merged with the bread. All the sauces had soaked into it. Though that was almost a saving grace to this gluten-free bread that now felt so stale that it really might as well have been fucking Melba toast. The lettuce seemed wilted and slimy and the tomatoes were pretty much mush.

Though as he took his bite and attempted to chew it enough to choke it down, Liv apparently was actually hungry enough that she didn't think it looked entirely disgusting. More than 25 years on the job – it definitely wouldn't have been the most disgusting thing she'd eaten. Brian knew it.

She reached and picked at some of the lettuce and tomato that was sticking out of the end he'd near had to gnash off with his teeth. He let her but again held out the other sandwich in offering. But Liv again shook her head. So he offered her his sandwich instead. She accepted that – managing to wriggle and tear off her own bite before handing it back to him. He couldn't tell if she was going to be wanting another bite or not. Her face was neutral as she chewed too.

"Which one does she want?" Brian asked after he managed to swallow.

"They lion," Liv muttered out while still trying to choke down her own bite. She really seemed to force herself to swallow at that point. Holding a fist up to her mouth and then her throat and then her chest as it did go down the gullet. "The yellow one – not the pink. Followed by the rainbow flamingo, the blue puppy, followed by the white llama, followed by the pink flamingo, followed by the purple llama, followed by the purple owl, followed by the actual unicorn. According to Benji."

Brian looked at her. "Are there more of these things that that list?"

"Oh, yes," Liv and retrieved her phone. She unlocked it and showed him some picture or like 24 of these fucking things. Just looking at all the florescent blobs was making his eyes hurt. "They're in eggs. It's the next integration of these stupid blind bag toys."

"Giant oversized and overpriced ones," Brian muttered and handed the phone back to her. "Guess she gets what she gets and better not get upset. If Santa is seriously going to wade into the blind bag bunk."

Liv sighed a little and blew up the picture more on her screen. She tilted it at him to show him the lion. "There's clues on the egg about which stuffie is inside," she muttered. "If you're in the know."

"What about if you just order it on the company site or like Amazon," Brian said. "They let you pick which monstrosity you're going drop that kind of dough on?"

She shook her head. "But the price isn't that bad," Liv mumbled. "It's going to be finding them in-stock and then one of the ones she thinks she wants."

Brian gave his head a little shake. "She needs another rundown on how these blind bag things work. Finding the things is one thing. Finding a specific one – not going to happen."

Liv shrugged. "Maybe …"

He sighed at her. But she just gave him another little shrug and stared at the phone. And he knew that meant that they'd both be in and out of every fucking toy store in the five boroughs looking for this thing. They didn't let the kids ask for much. So Brian knew that that one 'big ticket' ask they got to put to Santa – Liv went out of her way to make sure it was under the tree for the kiddos.

"This mean you're relenting on the Nerf guns for Christmas too?" he asked.

She gave him another little sigh and shrug. But Brian just nodded.

"He asked today if since Santa is actually St. Nicholas, if you can give Santa requests like prayers to God and if he could ask to not be sick anymore," she said. Her voice cracked a little near the end of the statement.

And Brian felt his eyes sting a bit at the statement too. He reached and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She let her ear rest against his chest. And they both just stayed there quiet for a bit. Staring at Big Man.

"Rainbocorns and Nerf guns it is …" Brian mumbled. Because they sure as fuck couldn't come up with that other Christmas wish for their kid. No matter how hard they tried.

"You're getting a cold," Liv muttered against his chest.

"I'm just tired," he said.

He felt her shake her head a bit against him. "I can hear it in your breathing."

Brian looked down at her a bit. Surprised – but not. She lay with her ear against his chest enough that he wouldn't be surprised at all if she could pick out a change. Especially since they'd both become semi-experts at watching – and noticing – the changes in Ben's breathing or lung sounds.

"Crap recycled plane air," he mumbled.

She hummed some agreement. "You should rest," she said. "We don't need you or anyone else getting sick now."

He smiled – more frowned – into her hair and then shifted to rest his cheek on the top of her head and examine their kid. Ben was clearly out for the count.

"How'd the rest of the day go?" he asked.

He sort of knew – but he didn't. All that time on the plane waiting for it to take off and circling around New York airspace and then waiting for a gate to clear out for them to disembark. It'd been an hours black hole where he hadn't been getting updates – even though when he'd turned his phone back on there'd been a stream of text updates from Liv. They'd exchanged a few more in his fucking hours long trek from JFK – which wasn't where he'd been supposed to land – into the hospital. But it still felt like he'd missed the important details. The minute-by-minute that he'd been supposed to be there for that day. And hadn't been. Let her and Big Man down.

"He improved a lot after they put the patch into his spine," she said.

"What'd that end up entailing?"

She sighed a little and stared at Ben. "They had to go back in with a needle," she said. "My understanding was that they basically create a little blood clot to stick at the hole they'd created that was leaking the fluid."

Brian inwardly cringed a little at that and held her a bit tighter. "It get him to stop puking?"

She nodded a little. "And the headache seemed to ease. But he's still pretty doped up. He's been in-and-out all day. He's a little disoriented. With the patch, we're going to be supposed to keep him pretty flat on his back the next few days."

"OK," Brian mouthed.

"So no Christmas market or ice skating or Santa," she said. There was some regret there.

But Brian just shrugged and held at her. "All that shit's going to be around right up to the holidays and then some. Do it another weekend."

Liv made a small sound of agreement. "I realized I didn't get around to buying them sweaters yet for their photos …"

He put his mouth against the crown of her head. "They've both got flannels and sweaters. We'll just throw into something we've got at home."

She made another weak sound of agreement. "Think they'll notice …?"

Brian shrugged and shook his head. He didn't know. And didn't think the kids should care all that much. But at the same time – traditions and routines, they ran big in their family. Sometimes change throw them all for a loop. And they'd been dealing with a whole lot of change that year. And were clearly heading into a lot of change from how they usually managed family stuff and family time in the holiday hoopla countdown. A lot of other years it'd been about family time in the way of shared experiences. Making sure they got away from the job and took the kids to do things. This year they were going to have to push the kids more to focus on the togetherness. Some of the shit they usually did just wasn't going to work. Family time as together time. They'd talked about that.

"I was thinking maybe we should do a family photo this year," Liv said.

"With Santa?" Brian asked, confused.

She made a bit of an amused sound and shook her head against him. "Just … a family photo."

"OK," he allowed.

He didn't point out that they had shots from around the civil ceremony. Or from down on their vacation. Or just random ones that had gotten taken over the course of the year. Because he knew wasn't what Liv meant. Or wanted. It was about things changing quickly now and future feeling uncertain. And time passing. And not really knowing what came next. And trying to capture the moment and live in it and hold onto it and remember it. He got it. He knew what she meant.

He stared at Big Man and then gestured a bit at the one bag hanging off him. "That the Ig line?"

Liv moved her head slightly and looked, shaking her head again. "I think that one's just saline to keep him hydrated and flush some of the drugs out of his system. The IgIV finished maybe two hours ago. They had to run it into him so slowly, Bri."

He made a noise at that and held onto her again. "What'd the doctor say? That it or bring him back?"

"They're going to start the second stage in the morning. If he's able to tolerate it at a faster rate, they said it should take four to six hours. And then two to four hours monitoring after the infusion. Maybe home some time in the afternoon …"

Brian rubbed his cheekbone against her hair. Even with her being in the hospital all day, he could still smell some of the fragrance of her shampoo. She smelt nice. He was pretty fucking sure he didn't. But she hadn't told him he stunk yet.

"Lindsay mentioned that they'd done this IgIV stuff on her kid brother but they've seen a real turn around with him since doing some kind of plasma exchange," Brian said.

"Mmm," Liv hummed. "He doesn't have lupus, Bri …"

"I know," he acknowledged. "But I Googled that shit. They've been doing plasma exchange on SLE patients with some pretty fucking dramatic results. There's trials, studies going on. Maybe we should ask a few questions …"

Liv hummed that she'd heard him. But then said, "Let's just … get through this first. See if it helps …"

Brian allowed his own acknowledgement sound. But he knew it rumbled in his chest with some frustration. But this whole fucking situation was frustrating. Every fucking step of the way.

"I'm sorry, Liv," he muttered.

"Don't be," she said. "You were doing your job. Our kids understand what that means and that sometimes there's disappointment in that. We also all understand that weather is outside of your control."

"Yea, still …," he said.

Liv shrugged. "I'd like a salon or spa card in my stocking," she said. "And the Me Time to actually use them. And we'll call it even."

Brian smiled lightly. "I think I can manage that."

"You're very capable," she in-toned. Sarcasm and innuendo was mixed together in that statement. "All-day pyjama weekend when we get out of here would be nice too …"

"Not a bed-in?" he teased.

"Don't think we'll get away with that …"

He didn't want that anyway. As much as he did. He really just wanted to get home to – with – his kids. And the four of them in front of the TV all holiday weekend didn't sound like a bad way to rebound from the week either. Though, he didn't think it'd be realistic. And he still wasn't going to buy they were going to get home tomorrow until they were there. Or that Liv wasn't going to have to go and supervise whatever SVU had caught downstairs.

"Did you officially call off Thanksgiving?" he asked.

"Yes and no …," she muttered.

He thought he knew what that meant. "Ducky over at my Ma's?"

Liv shook her head a bit. "John's with her. At our place."

Brian looked down at her. "Really?"

"Mmm …," Liv allowed again. He could tell she was likely almost more exhausted than he was. "And so are Jack and Renee. So I'm not sure who's babysitting who …"

An amused noise slipped out of him. "How'd you manage to keep my mom out of it?"

Liv shook her head and shrugged. "I didn't have to. She's taken it upon herself to save Thanksgiving. So I think she's been out … gathering the necessities and likely cooking all night …"

"You mention to her that we had most of the necessities in our kitchen …?"

"Bri, does your mother hear anything I say?"

He shrugged. "Sure. All the important bits …" he teased. "So like … the ten percent she actually wants to hear."

"Mmm," Liv muttered against his chest. "Well, you get to deal with her tomorrow. Last I heard from Jack, Renee was trying to be super helpful by prepping what we had in our fridge."

"So you're saying we should tell the doctor to set his IV at the slowest drip possible in the morning?" he said.

He felt her smile against him a bit.

"I think Emmy is working at being effective birth control," Liv muttered but he could still feel her smiling against him.

Brian allowed an amused noise. Em could be a fucking exhausting kid. But he sort of thought most six-year-olds were.

"Think Johnny's pretty committed to the not having kids thing at this point in his life," he deadpanned.

It got a small nudge from Liv and she looked up to smile at him. He returned it. "She did the swamp water thing when Renee went in to help her out of the bath," she said.

Brian smiled some more at that. "That's pretty funny," he said of the amusement their daughter got out of farting in the tub water and watching the bubbles it created. Em pretty much purposely held it farts until bathtime so she could see the effect.

"It's pretty disgusting," Olivia contended with a head shake. "It's more disgusting when she does the frog bit right after she does that."

Brian allowed a little laugh at the image of the way his little girl sunk up to her chin in the water after her farts and blobbed, blobbed, blobbed and stuck her tongue out in rapid frog-like lapping motions that always fucking got some of the fart-filled bathwater into her mouth before she sprung up in a leap that pretty much sprayed water all over you and the bathroom floor before she clambered out of the tub.

"Did she do the frog thing?" he asked.

"Oh, she did the frog thing," Liv said. "And she apparently told Renee that swamps are gaseous and bubble up too from decomposition, just like the gas coming out of her butt from the decomposing food they fed her at dinner. And that 'it's science.'"

"Our gifted child …," Brian smiled.

Liv smiled too but gave her head a little shake. "She's awful …"

"Awfully wonderful …," Brian completed.

And Liv just hummed and settled back against him. "I'm not sure Renee thought it was funny from the messages I got from Jack."

Brian shrugged. "They need to loosen up … Sure Munchie Munch told them she was spot on."

"John's always on his Munchkins' side," Liv whispered.

"Yea …," Brian allowed. "Glad he's there. That he's up to it."

"He's expecting a free meal," Liv said.

"Sounds like he'll be getting two," Brian said. "And leftovers."

"If we let him leave …," Liv said quietly.

He frowned a little at that thought – but the reality. But he didn't have the energy to dwell there tonight.

Instead he worked on shifting again to retrieve the duty-free bag from the ground. Liv sat up a bit from him and watched.

"Did you bring me diamonds?" she sassed.

"Even better," he rasped and handed her a box of maple sugar candies. "Pickings were slim in the duty free after thousands of passengers were stranded."

But it still earned him a light peck. "I love them," she teased.

"I know you do," he said. "Remember Quebec …"

She snorted a bit at that. That trip had almost done in any sweet tooth any of them had. No wonder dental wasn't covered in Canada's free health care. Half the nation's teeth were likely rotting out with the kinds of things they called dessert. And they'd definitely indulged more than they should. Until their teeth ached.

"Are they for now or tomorrow?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I got the kids some hard candies and some of the maple crème cookies for my mom and Johnny."

She made an amused noise again and nibbled a small piece off the leaf shaped candy she'd claimed from the box. Brian wasn't sure all that sweet was going to agree with her near empty stomach. He knew it wouldn't agree with his and shook his head when she offered the small box back to him to claim his own.

"They really only had maple everything in the gift shop?"

"And all the moose, beaver and lumberjack Buffalo plaid paraphernalia you could ever ask for," he deadpanned. But retrieved a bottle of ice wine from the bag and showed it to her. "But I managed to snag the last one of these off the shelf. You ever had it?"

She examined the bottle and raised any eyebrow at him. Clearly she knew the kind of price tag that came with ice wine.

"I hope you aren't planning on us sharing this tomorrow?" she muttered.

"Nah," he allowed. "We'll steal that away for something special. Good news …"

Liv nodded. "Or Christmas. New Year's …" she said. Like if they waited for good news they'd be waiting a long, long time.

She handed it back to him to rebag and she settled back into the couch again, sipping her cooling coffee and nibbling at the sweet treat. So Brian gnawed a bit more on his sandwich. And they both stared at Ben some more.

"You just end up doing this all day?" Brian whispered a bit.

It almost broke his heart a bit more thinking about it. He struggled when Ben had been getting his IV treatments previously. After the line was in – in that chair – he wanted Liv. And it was hard to sit outside the glass and watch her holding him and rocking him and just sitting next to him. Her being the one getting to talk to him and calm him. Color and watch movies and play videogames and read to him. Be there through that thick of it.

But in that situation – Big Man was at least upright and all there. He might get scared or teary. He might have some waves of nausea and feel a little sore and wiped out after the treatment. But he got to go home. Got to sleep in his own bed. He was only connected to machines for four hours at a time. He was in a room with other kids and other parents and families.

This was fucking different. This really drove home the kind of turn that Ben could take. Moments that their future could hold. If their kid got an infection or pneumonia. If the disease damaged his lungs more. Or got into his other organs … his kidneys or spine. It was hard to see him like that – that night. And he wasn't all that sick that night. He was just struggling with adjusting to a new treatment. His body was just needing some time and supervision. This wasn't sick. This was just his doctors being contentious and cautious. And maybe that made it scarier. Because this could look so much worse.

"A little," Liv allowed. "While the IgIV was going the nurse was in taking his vitals about every fifteen, twenty minutes. So that broke things up. His doctor was by at the end of his rounds earlier tonight to check on him and to explain what the plan is for the morning."

"Do we have a plan on how the day's going to play out? Beyond here? With Em and Jack?"

Liv shook her head a bit. "Not really. Jack said he and Renee would stay with Emmy until we get home. I didn't get the impression John was going anywhere. Don was going to come over and drive us home if you weren't able to get in tonight. I let him know you got here but I haven't heard back from him. So I don't know what his plan is. Or your Mom's. I was assuming she'd be heading over to our house at some point. I really don't want to go over there for dinner after two days in the hospital …"

"Nah, no," Brian agreed. "I'll tell her that's a no-go, if that's what she's pushing. What about you? The case your guys caught?"

Liv shrugged. "Fin said he'd quarterback this weekend."

"Yea, and …" Brian pressed.

She sighed. "I'll call him soon and get an update. I'll likely go downstairs and get a feel on what the family's said to Kat. Rollins hasn't made it in yet. The snow and getting childcare in the snow …"

"Carisi?"

"Booked the weekend off and outranks Kat now. So he's at his parents' on Staten Island. I don't know if Fin's ordered him to start through the blizzard yet or not …"

"If my trip into the city was any indication, it will be daylight by the time he gets here," Brian muttered and then looked at her a bit more directly. "Messy?"

"Yeah," she whispered and shook her head, looking away from him a bit.

"You going to need to stop by the precinct tomorrow?"

She let out a slow exhale. "I hope not. I'm trying to let Fin take care of it."

He held her a little tighter. "Hard and not hard to do when you've got this in front of you …" He knew she would've wanted distraction. But that she also wouldn't leave Ben's bedside.

"He really did perk up a bit after the blood patch," she said. "We watched Hunger Games. It made him feel very grown-up. Getting to see something his sister's still way too little for."

"Any good?"

"Gory," Liv shook her head. "It made me feel like we need to have some kind of conversation again about violence – real and make-believe. What kind of games and videogames we want him playing. Movies and shows he should or shouldn't be watching."

"It couldn't have been much worse than the Marvel and Transformer movies," Brian said. There were lots of guns and shit blowing up in them.

"It was different," Liv said. "Kids killing each other. Maybe a little too close to our current reality. But it was good. Maybe too grown-up for him in some ways. But he seemed to like it. I liked it. He expressed an interest in getting the books."

"That's a plus with him …" Brian agreed.

There was a little moaning from the bed and their eyes both went back there. Ben's eyes fluttered open and he squinted their way. But it was unfocused.

"Hey, Benji," Liv smiled, sitting up and pulling away from Brian a bit. "Daddy got here."

"Hey, Big Man," Brian greeted, sitting forward a bit too.

But Ben only glanced his way – still unfocused and confused. His eyes drifted back through the dark to stare at the figure of his mom.

"I needa pee," Ben mumbled.

"Oh, OK," Liv said and stood up off the couch. "You want the bedpan, Benj?"

But the kid was already squirming around to the edge of the bed – looking even more confused at the tangle of blankets and IV lines around him. But he did manage to swing his legs over the side.

Liv moved a bit faster at that, clearing the entanglements away from him. "Ah, OK, Benji, you need to be careful. Remember your back. Move slowly."

Ben muttered something that didn't sound like much of anything and sort of stumbled forward. His hospital gown hung wide open at the back – showing off red patches of skin and a bandage taped against his spine. And his underwear with little basketballs all over his ass. All of it again just drove home how young their kid actually was to be going through all this.

Liv grabbed the IV stand and followed after Ben a bit, rolling it toward the bathroom on his behalf as he took his staggered steps. She reached for his elbow to almost grab him and hold him up and at that point Brian jumped to his feet and wrapped his arm around Ben – holding him up by the armpits.

Ben looked at him all blurry-eyed. "Dad?" he finally seemed to register.

"Hey, Big Man," he allowed. "Let's get you to the bathroom. OK?"

It took the two of them to get him and the IV stand over. Ben seemed rubber-legged and confused. Just drugged and dazed.

He still seemed that way when they got him in front of the can. Just stood there. So Brian reached and lifted the lid for him. Ben just gazed down the front of his gown and into the toilet bowl.

"I don't know how to pee in a dress," he mumurred. It almost sounded like he was still asleep.

Liv bent a bit and grabbed at the hem of the gown pulling it up for him but still nothing.

"Here, Ben," Brian said and held the bunched up gown at him. "You just hold this and we'll give you a bit of privacy so you can take your leak …"

Ben just looked at him completely confused. His eyes were dilated. Brian looked at Liv. But she only shook her head.

"It's just the allergy medication they gave him," she said and pulled the gown off both his shoulders. Ben stared at his bare arms as she did that.

"Cold," he muttered.

"We'll get you back into bed where it's warm in a second, Benj," she said. "You wanted to pee, remember?"

"Yea …," he said spaceily.

Still nothing. So she nudged his shoulder until he turned around.

"OK, Benj, just pull down your undies and sit down. Take your pee. Daddy's right here. I'm just going to give you guys a minute of privacy."

Brian didn't think Ben exactly cared in that moment. He still seemed confused about where he was and what exactly he was doing. And apparently missed part of Liv's instructions because in the moment she'd turned her back, he'd sat without yanking down his briefs and pissed himself. And he sat there staring at the wet spot in even more confusion.

"You got a change of clothes in the bag?" Brian put to her.

Liv glanced back over her shoulder and let out a little sigh. "Yeah," she nodded and moved back into the room. She returned in a minute.

Brian had already gotten Ben up and looped his thumb around the band of the kid's pants to give them enough of a push to fall down Ben's legs. It still sometimes felt weird – wrong – when he helped his kids with this stuff. Like someone was always going to tell him he was doing something wrong. That he was some kind of perv. He constantly had to check himself. Remind himself he was a parent. They were his kids. He took care of them.

"Lift your feet, Ben," Brian said as he bent to retrieve the soiled briefs. He tossed them in the direction of the sink. Liv snagged them out of the air without a second thought and tossed a towel she'd wet his way. He handed – nearly completely smacked into his palm – to Ben. "Wipe yourself off a bit." The kid stared at it. "Wipe the piss off your crotch, Big Man." Ben gave him a look but then did as he asked. "Good man," Brian muttered and then took the towel back from him and stooped a bit to wipe down each of Ben's legs. He gave Liv a look. "Should we take him to the shower?"

She shook her head. "Maybe in the morning," she said. "When more of the drugs are out of his system."

Brian nodded and took the briefs she handed him. Staying on one knee he held out the leg opening to Ben.

"Let's get these on," he said and shook them at the kid. Ben put his hand on his shoulder and shakely managed to pick up both legs and get them on. Brian pulled them up as best he could for the kid. Apparently he didn't do it right – or comfortably – because Ben was aware enough that his hand ended up down the front rearranging himself. Liv wiped off his hand with a washcloth as he finished up. The kid looked real confused by that too.

"You're covered in pee, Benj," she muttered gently.

He gazed at her. "My back hurts …" he stated.

"I know," she nodded. "So let's lay back down."

Ben nodded but then whimpered a bit as he took another step. Shuttered enough that it looked like tiny vibrations went through his body.

So Brian stooped again and that time lifted him. "OK, let's get you back to bed," he said.

And Ben really looked at him again. "Dad?" he asked.

"Yea, Big Man," Brian allowed and started to walk back toward the bed. "Dad …. I'm here."

"You're home …," Ben muttered and his head rested on his shoulder just like when he was a little guy. "Like you said …" His arms wrapped full around his neck. And it was clear he wasn't letting go. Maybe never again. Not this hospital visit.

Brian gave Liv a look but she nodded. And he sat back down on the couch. Carefully rearranging Ben.

"Just keep your hand against his back," Liv said. "On the bandage. Little pressure."

Brian nodded and Liv came over to drape a blanket from the bed over the both of them. And then she sat down next to them and looked at them. And then her lips pressed into Brian's temple and then Ben's. And then her head rested on his opposite shoulder – just watching them both.

And Brian was just so fucking happy to be home. To this.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Reviews, feedback and comments are very much appreciated.**

**Not entirely sure what the next chapter will be. But it will have something to do with Thanksgiving and will likely be the only Thanksgiving-ish scene.**


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